Saturday, August 16, 2008

A Yet Untitled Song

A Yet Untitled Song

Clear-walled cage

With holes for air

I’m sitting there

Not sitting there

Watching you

In the clear-walled cage

With holes for air

Vine draped neck

Wrapped round and round

White glories hanging upside-down

And you sitting there

Content to be-

I’m sorry that it’s you, not me-

In your clear-walled cage

With holes for air

The moon man sings you a lull-a-bye

The taste of the song uncomforting

Certainly nothing

Could lead you to sleep

You pace in your cage

Clear-walled

With holes

With holes for air

So you can breathe

But you—not content to be—

Wish not to breathe

And cover the holes

With your remaining clothes

You cover the holes

Of your clear-walled cage

With holes for air

And when I come back to see

Not to actually see

But to “see”

There is no one standing there

In the clear-walled cage

With no holes for air

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