The White Room (Poem by Nancy Martin, Sketch by Josh Buckley)
The White Room
The silence of the room was overwhelming.
The walls so white they’re blinding
like fresh snow under the sun.
I sit down in the clear chair at a table.
I notice a chess board.
The black and white squares start moving,
Spinning to the silence. I focus on a chess piece:
It becomes a zebra, the squares still moving
Underneath. The zebra looks at me as if
It was trying to tell me something.
My head shakes vigorously,
The silent room is filled by my submission,
As if pushed by a syringe.
The walls so white they’re blinding
like fresh snow under the sun.
I sit down in the clear chair at a table.
I notice a chess board.
The black and white squares start moving,
Spinning to the silence. I focus on a chess piece:
It becomes a zebra, the squares still moving
Underneath. The zebra looks at me as if
It was trying to tell me something.
My head shakes vigorously,
The silent room is filled by my submission,
As if pushed by a syringe.
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