30:30 2013 - 3

North Chorea

The captions beneath the anchor
propose a nation of involuntary
movement. Of course their sabers rattle.
And then the words spool past,
like an escalator devours
the last step, and we're on
to an ad for syrup. Little eighth
notes flank the text, and this is where
I remember some people
must miss music, the way
I miss our bed, and your love
may be the only thing worth
the hours in this waiting room.