son of the system

August 13, 2012 § Leave a comment

oh, rapture!
this cubicle of concrete
this glory
this grey womb
this cocoon with chrysalis in
extant suspension
hold me, I beg, in your
razored arms hold me close
to your hard dry bosom
let me dissolve
into a silver stream
of nothing
rock me into endless sleep
stone me with your institution eyes
shroud me in your docket leaves
educate me
with your sweet bludgeons
feed me on rations of shame
clothe me in castoff flags
remind me with
your distance
that I am
your son

2012 Fred Whitehead


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