Frame

Hubert Robert [Public Domain]
via Wikimedia Commons

There's a little grey box with a light in the middle
  And buttons and switches that beg you to fiddle
Sitting there on its back, on the table dead center,
  Your eye finds it right quick just as soon as you enter.

Plus that frame on the wall? It holds nothing at all.

You grab the grey box and it pops off the table
  Start mashing the buttons the best you are able
The box must control something in this bare room
  Since now, with no door, it might be your tomb.

And the frame on the wall still shows nothing at all.

A sequence of buttons you push and hear static:
  An old-time TV left turned on in the attic.
You vary the sequence and try once again
  A hole appears empty, a mind full of zen.

Now the frame on the wall contains nothing at all.

The box floats back home to the table and clicks
  Into place, and its light? It both flashes and flicks.
The void sucks the air and your body away
  Through the frame, pressure turns all your flesh to puree.

And that frame on the wall now seems startlingly small.

The light it stops blinking, the void fades away
  The pressure stops howling, the frame fills with grey,
The door reappears and pops open once more.
  Some sicko has trapped the ship's trash ejector.

So that frame on the wall needs a full overhaul.

No comments:

Post a Comment