The Cell
they change the sheets
once a week
the blue men pass in pairs
marking the hour
matching cadence smartly
staring at vacant eyes
in four-square cells
passing as if no one was there
but if eyes could grasp
there would be fingerprints
around pencil necks
I only know what I can see
between steel rods
and wired glass aglow
distorting figures like sides of beef
in a meat locker
waiting to be drawn and quartered
into 12 lb. slabs displayed in glass cases
inspected by schlubs
slavering at the mouth
like ravenous dogs
ready to rip into sinew and bone
like angry dogs
sparing no mercy or expense
on trophies of the hunt
we mind the hours
silent and alone
awaiting a call
that never comes
the bell signals curfew
night commands the hour
dreams begin their languorous pavane
and sounds die into the night
— o soul
show me how to live
before I die —
Copyright © David Sermersheim | Year Posted 2017
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