P. J. Radford
A Wait In Kuala Lumpur
Sprawled on my bed in my KL cell
I search through my head to note
this heaviness in the dark.
Some sounds of life beyond the whirring of my
ceiling fan, this fan that like a mother does
comfort me, like a lover does caress my skin
with its soft touch, like an old friend serves
so nicely to take the cutting edge off the
silence, but not overmuch.