the air doesn’t stir
or ring
you look my way
and pretend to smile
but not even a whisper
passes your lips
like dropping a pin
in a vacuum
no tinkling chime
oppressive and heavy
being mummified
wrapped in heavy wet bandages
soaked in eucalyptus
hard to breathe and move
but harder still to
want to move
your laughter is a ghost
hollow and absent and see through
and everywhere at once
and all in my head
horses spin
a sickly pantomime
the calliope
rests in ruins
scraps of metal tubes
black and white keys
broken wooden legs
discarded brass ring
——
It’s National Poetry Writing Month!
Day 6
Check out these sites:
Words and Feathers 
I loved this one!
But I didn’t quite grasp one thing. What was the Eucalyptus nod about?
Thanks very much! I’m never entirely sure what my poems mean. But I associate that smell with a heavy, almost medicinal odor that ties in with the stupor induced mummification.
Ah, I see. When I moved to India for some time, we had a tree right next to us. It DID have a distinct smell. Something almost clinical. So, not a bad choice of words, in the end.
Kaaw!
Brilliant!
Thank you!