Whatever is the Opposite of a Pastoral

I'm at some remove. I should leave it at that,
A cell inside a beast inside a cage somewhere,
At some remove from sun or rain, unfiltered
Air. I do the tasks I'm told to do. I'm fed.
I cannot change my place, and what you know
Of me from these, the noise-enshrouded bleats
Which leave the cell, the beast, the cage,
To dissipate beyond the filtered air, are products
Of imagination starving, never fed.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 15 times
Written on 2011-04-05 at 12:27

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