Fan blades parcel apocalyptic light
Within a band, floating in the dark,
Sending sonorous waves of minced night
In a rapid, rhythmic electronic glower-
A buzzing sound sizzling solipsistic-
Metronomic, monolithic, monotone.
She’s solitary, party of one-
Clipped, tight-lipped tongue.
Tile and steel, stainless reflection
Of the gulfing glass chasm reaching to caress
Compressed shoulders that shudder, breathing.
Huddled over captured heat,
A small source of brief comfort,
Conveying release to skin,
But only so deep
And not so far as the seat,
Across and empty.
Behind her, the floating globes
Proceed, in lined rankings,
Into cavernous inked spaces,
Projecting, only within themselves,
Of a frangible, intangible moment
Like whisper-kissed smoke, gone.