Stills...

a yapping television
some trickling water droplets
clean plates on the side table
and newspapers lying hapless

sing songs of yellow fever
play games of scarlet checks
dance around in rhythmic motion
chop fine kung fu wrecks

while
the air
circulates
around all commotion,
circumvents
plastic drapes
kills rhyme in deep rest

and the mind
sits
splits
into half
and then half of half
and so on
separating
like wings under a shredder

that become
feathers ambulating in stillness...