ElbaIt's sort of a prison, a beautiful prison, Napoleon's
Elba, this home of mine. I sometimes forget to
Acknowledge its beauty: the spacious rooms,
The finely-made moldings, the paintings,
The books, the dark hardwood floors,
And, of course, the view of the valley
Below, which, shallow as it is, extends
To infinity. Visitors tell me how lucky
I am, and I know that they're right.
Nonetheless, I'm imprisoned, surrounded
By bigots and foot-draggers, brutes, who
Are hostile to any suggestion of change.
Mindless, bamboozled, uncultured,
Addicted to trash entertainment and unhealthy
Foods, they're an ocean of sewage surrounding
My home, my Elba. It's beautiful. Still,
If I could, I would quietly scurry away.
Poetry by Lawrence Beck
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Written on 2022-01-13 at 00:44
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