Legos

Sticky plastic pieces, smeared shiny with the innocence of residue's hands, lay scattered
In that sterile room of plastered eyes and smiling photographs.

                                            The smiles fade with hesitant footstumbles to find

A writhing clump of snakes:

Thumping and straining, they lay glistening upon a starched white membrane,
                                           Gasping through the trickling of time's long tears
Tinged with the tainted water of leaking hearts,
                                        They solemnly await the clicking of their crooked pieces apart

Afterwards:

The box of perplexing passageways flickers to a stop, tears drip dry, and time melts away.

Tschüss,

Marta Frieda Hart