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No Power Where It Counts
Hand, ignite lighter.
Lungs. Draw smoke deeply.
Mouth, Chew chocolate.
Tongue, slide over lips when done.
Heart, feel broken until further word.
Eyes, focus where I point you.
Skin, feel like music, rubbed lotion.
Ears, why am I ignored? I know you work even in dreams.
Synapses, orchestral hard wired.
Maestro, I, until I stumbled on I.
Baton, clattering dumb for lack of power.
Tongue, thick now, somehow usurped from I.
Lungs heave while heart beats loudly in silence.
I see now my silly stick is limited; a non-entity to those sitting first chair.
The Producer allows I limited power; though ever second, never front row.
I Scream, “Heart! Be silent!”; it beats on as if I’m not even here. Or there.
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