Centrifugal Tendencieshers the fingers of a samurai doll
adjusting the nozzle of a stream of mist
in a 12-tatami hydroponic bay
situated at the tendrils-end
of the swinging arm of station sector 5
sprinkled with droplets of condensation
rapidly prune and disentangle
the delicate garden of nutri-moss,
forest of micro-pore, and filter-grass
her own private Eden
her dark eyes shift at an abrupt sound —
her solemn face turning to the interruption
a man's voice, sad:
"my longing is to tend a garden such as this...
why must be this void between us?"
the endless spiral of coriolis winds.
(C) 1/7/97 Tom Brinck