Shoes worn by angry feet scuff up mirror floors,
and white paper faces with blue lines
look down to see nothing reflected back
but searing lights and
ceiling tiles that would be so easy to claw through
and climb up out of
if not for the camera
sitting behind that front desk
with her finger to our lips.
Walls peel and whiteboards
squeak as marker fumes
waft down our eyes and noses
to put our sighing lungs to sleep.
Midwestern night.
There’s something out in the fields,
Something banging on the roof.
Fresh vomit in the toilet.
The sink is running, so you can’t
Hear your own heavy breathing.
There was a collapsed star.
There was light at the very end of a cave.
There was lightning that struck a tree.
There was a baby born
With a slightly bigger skull, one day.
The humans are out there taking their bows in the light where the world can see.
We are piled up,
cold and immobile on the floor as the green room light fills
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