Thursday, March 27, 2008

And the bomb goes silent in my hand

And the bomb goes silent in my hand.
In my chest the lungs are losing air.
The spider orchids freeze to hear
the little breathing machine cough.

The machine coughs and the cough
sounds muffled behind some huge hand.
The spider orchids freeze to hear
the music of lungs losing air.

How meek is the music of losing air.
It's courteous as a muffled cough
the spider orchids freeze to hear.
Some air is held in a cup of hands,

in vice-like hands you hold no air.
When bombs explode you hear no cough.

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