29 lines
887 B
Text
29 lines
887 B
Text
|
a garden in the corner of a gym
|
||
|
|
2020-01-16
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
***
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
the presiding queen rules over her patch of concrete
|
||
|
|
resentful of the hole in her chest, woefully incomplete
|
||
|
|
and her knees and shoulders have betrayed her too many times
|
||
|
|
so she sits on her patch and looks down on us from up high
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
a coercive building made of ancestors' malice
|
||
|
|
she watches the children as she sips from chalice
|
||
|
|
contorting their bodies in impossible ways
|
||
|
|
but no empathy resides in her stony gaze
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
all bow down at the command of a robotic voice
|
||
|
|
programming the class to believe they have no choice
|
||
|
|
to bend, extend, repeat, give false confession
|
||
|
|
rear ends in the air, youthful limbs ready for inspection
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
rain's cold air banished, air stuffy and hot
|
||
|
|
a door to freedom bolted shut and locked
|
||
|
|
maybe, if we lift these weights on the count of ten
|
||
|
|
we will lift ourselves straight up to heaven
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
***
|
||
|
|
|
||
|
|
CC BY-NC-SA 4.0 (c) Vane Vander
|