There were beauty queens on the podium
all men in the front row were observant
from the back of the chambers I hear sound
that like the inside of an engineroom
expands into separate partitions
The room is thick with pretension and gaze
everything is louder in the silence
the rhythm of the breathing syncopates
I can smell what I hear as it enters
but as it is a scentless scents, no fumes,
yet it contains a mystery made nude
the knowing of itself takes possession
As I am escorted to the exit:
"What happens to the water and the wells?"
This Sonnet is a Fictional Work. Any perceived, apparent, or implied relationship to entities or persons is coincidental.