THE WHEELCHAIR BOUND


Dots appeared and disappeared
on a single sun ray
peering through the
rotted canvas blind
She sat on a wheelchair rusting
beneath her unexercised
arse


In the Land of Charnel Ground
no cash oozing pockets or
colour disappearing into op-art
no bra straps or laughter, just
chopped down trees and bones
cockroaches forever rising or
crawling


All bodies merge with this ground
sooner or later, like Buddha said
where head, ears or navels are
perceived images that Pluto too
saw, across his screen, and into the
shadowy cave from which truth
emerged


They still fear coming here
where the lowest common
denominator is a quick breath
when dumping a gas cylinder
the Wheel of Fortune watched
the wheelchair
bound



©GhairoDanielsPoetry2019