Respectable People

We see a man inside a box. It's not
A coffin, just a box. He seems
Asleep in there. With him are his
Few possessions, worn and battered,
Grubby things. We must conclude
This is his home. We see him with
Our television in a home which is
A house, a bright one, filled with
Pleasant things. It's not a coffin,
Just a house, and we have many
Things to do. The man is sleeping.
We must go. We leave him in
His box.



Poetry by Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Read 16 times
Written on 2012-01-02 at 17:05

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