Bad Room

Ay, roomful of columns of eyes
and mouths in Fibonacci
swirl, and then I spy

a half-chewed apple.
The apple is breathing,
or it was until just now.

The mouths were after the apple.
The apple was some being
that only looked like an apple.

I cannot speak of the eyes
in the nautilus cloud
above us all.  What they are,

what they saw before I came upon all this.
It had no interpretation before I saw it
with my own eyes.  So, call it murder

or bad dream or 
something I ate.  
No matter.  I blink.