TV haze- such a healthy glow.
Holding you captive, to kill you slow.
Comatose, sedated colour tube.
Coke and McDonald’s begin to collude.
Building for obsolescence.
Robbing the mind and creating allegiance.
Selling your soul to the highest bidder.
The concrete machine presses even more litter.
Blood looks like motor oil,
engines choke and fall apart.
I cough on your fumes.
I’ve wrapped my legs around you
and cleaned your bones of all your marrow.
The engine comes to a grinding halt.
Standing tall becomes my fault.
Years ago I must have asked for all
the clean dishes I have passed.
The gears never change,
the growling engine threatens to derange.
All you touch becomes mine.
I’ve cleaned your body, your house and your mind.
For some reason I look under my skirt
and find engine oil and all your dirt.
Danielle Searby may be reached at