Poetry in Vitro....I Lost Count

The Sealed Fountain

I'm in a room.
It's smaller than I thought
it would be.
The verticals, though closed
allow slivers of sunlight to hit
the wooden slats on the floor, to form
parallel bars of incandescence.

In the corner is a futon
that has seen better times.
I am sitting on a folding chair
at the center of my world.
I am a sealed fountain spewing.