Tuesday, January 25, 2011

waiting room

stale smell of chloroform

slither hurriedly into the nostril

chased by different forms of fear

hatching out of thin shells

sweaty palms make abstract art

on crumpled reports, frayed files

on which stick random thoughts

faded dreams some little lies

multiple projections scream

alive, livid on the wall

re-wind re-write re-shoot

re-play another dream

time swings slowly

each wait their turn

as her long fingers dip deep

picking the next number from the urn



Raajii said...

so good :-)

Archana Srinivasan said...

Very nice imagery!! And I love how the poem itself is shaped like an urn! :)