Stanislavsky's Unit
Oxygen tubes tickled tiny
hairs in my nostrils.
Monitored leads left doodle
lines on the overhead scope.
I stared at circular tracks
in the ceiling thinking they
looked like toy train rails,
only upside down. Life
doesn't
flash through the mind while
irregular beats blip on
rhythm strips; soap-opera
scene starring me is what my
brain believed.
(Previously published in 1988,
The Writer, Inc.)
Lois Greene Stone, writer and
poet, has been syndicated worldwide. Poetry and personal essays have been
included in hard & softcover book anthologies. Collections of her personal
items/ photos/ memorabilia are in major museums including twelve different
divisions of The Smithsonian.
Nice to see your work here again Lois.
ReplyDeleteDear Lois,
ReplyDeleteAn intriguing poem, an escape of the mind to endure something unpleasant (or worse). You really made me ponder about it.
Best wishes,
Inge