Transposed

As my finger runs along the page
sternly to discipline the words,
the hum of the air-con hovers over my head
and brings me back to the hospital
by my mother's bed.
Whirls of air from the ceiling fan
beat against the vacuum of my bubble.
She is here with me
but I am alone.
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27 September 2005
(revised 18 July 2006)