ROOMS BY THE HOUR
The slow, drooping unauthentic jaw.
Convulsions of apathy.
Is that you, Science Dog?
These hand grips will have
to substitute for relaxation.
Access is an excuse for departure.
Histrionics, curious emphatics.
Sold! To the inscrutably virulent.
Drama will not be necessary.
This way to the table of imperial white.
May the weary find solace.
NAKED MAN IN A COMA
Echoes in long hallways or a garage.
Windowless, doors aplenty.
The sound of footsteps approaching
from some distance or right here.
One of those chancy echoes
not what you would expect.
Lights are flickering dimmer and dimmer.
Peripheral vision once reliable,
now pale attendants attend at all sides.
Someone’s romantic perception
like linen in the breeze of dying.
Colin James has a chapbook of poems A THOROUGHNESS NOT DEPRIVED OF ABSURDITY
available from Pski’s Porch Publishing.