Lying Buddha - Ernst Auer

in the shy room

with wasted colours of

three wooden palettes

a pregnant wardrobe,

a loose cardigan
green

to wipe this uneven floor

the beads of sweat off the faces of six walls

the bride, the unhappiest bride waits

'please turn down the fake autumn of science.'
yet it would be unbearable

without the ceiling light as the sun

for one humid half-truth

for a false dawn whenever the door opens

when the buddha lies

not on the bed or the altar table

but just nine things about him.