Dream Song 84: Op. posth. no. 7

Read 'Dream Song 84: Op. posth. no. 7' by 'John Berryman' and provide your summary and literary analysis in the comments section below.

Dream Song 84: Op. posth. no. 7 by John Berryman

 Plop, plop. The lobster toppled in the pot,
fulfilling, dislike man, his destiny,
glowing fire-red,
succulent, and on the whole becoming what
man wants. I crack my final claw singly,
wind up the grave, & to bed.

-”Sound good, Mr Bones. I wish I had me some.
(I spose you got a lessen up your slave.)
-”O no no no.
Sole I remember; where no lobster swine,-”
pots hot or cold is none. With you I grieve
lightly, and I have no lesson.

Bodies are relishy, they say. Here's mine,
was. What ever happened to Political Economy,
leaving me here?
Is a rare-”in my opinion-”responsibility.
The military establishments perpetuate themselves forever.
Have a bite, for a sign.

Form: Free verse

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