after the broadcast

after the broadcast
I checked my pulse 

it had not changed 

that alone should have been a catalyst of fear
where sadness has gone to hide

I cannot imagine
maybe it is behind the battens 

put up against monstrosities 

that pulse ceaselessly around us

curled up and clinging 

tightly to joy
which found shelter there

long ago
(c) 2015 Fred Whitehead