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It's about being cold in a thin unprotecting gown Deposited like a piece of meat to be delivered to Apparently no one in particular, Deep within the lower depths of the hospital Waiting in the long hall with the closed doors, The radiation logos warning danger all around me Warning danger waiting for me, waiting at the door, Waiting in this hallway without people, Waiting cold and silent, Save for the sounds coupling pipes. Ducts run the length of any life down here Originations unknown, destinations unseen. Utterances of industry plodding on, above me They snake, turning into this corridor Delivering inside their ducts--God knows what-- To whomever or whatever, (one of my ducts has already delivered) Speaking the language of technology within their ducts They move messages. Behind closed doors reveal their secrets. This is the place to find out if my own ducts Have received a delivery Which door will it be? Will it be behind door number four? Waiting, I recall All those sorry souls who stood in cold, cold lines Waiting for different pipes To bring them showers. A cold end in a cold world. |
Mixed Media |