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The Black Box
The Black Box
They came to the house
for the wrong reason.
In the end…
They didn’t care,
any address would do,
as long as the reports were made,
and the numbers taken down
before the beginning of the next shift.
They came,
and they tested
and then they required adherence to the law.
What law?
The one law they painted into place for us…
from our lost imaginings,
and faith spent wrongly.
Together, trapped in the moment,
a single instance in time
that refused to pass to the next.
Nice words…
are echoed,
as if sung loudly in a cave,
dark with shadow,
and then immediately swallowed up…
in silence.
Fights, lessons in public places.
Brawls and beatings to show control,
where there is none…
and never will be.
Scuffs at first,
then real marks are ground onto
and then into the surface.
Marred deeply…
Becoming part of solid stone,
which will show
again with each days passing,
into forever.
“Ask yourself..., Who are the speaking about?”
Copyright ©
Ann Foster
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