An indignant face
Infectious towards my simple life
How can I hold?
How can I wait?
With the rest in time
And a cough in space.

Memory sheds
A bath below,
In which this tilting head sinks

A stern fist
A maniacal laugh
Flood the cough
On its behalf

Now forlorn
In a waste of water
Crafted luscious in the time we spot her.