Day 38 of 50 Poems/50 Days

‘The Ceiling’

Alone with the television light,
the machine watches me,
with its one eye open.

I traced the top of the room.
White alabaster,
like a wall between me and another.

I went along the edges.
Pressed my ear to its surface,
listening in on a conversation
between husband and wife.

I stood on tiptoes.
Made this lost world now found.
My fingers rubbing the milky-white.

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