Politik Poetry

originally printed in The West Trade Review

Captivated

His eyes look

the lashes sweep heavily

I place my hands on the railing

Stand on my toes

To get a better look into his look

The tunnel is deep

I tilt forward

travel to the back of his orbs

he was young once

he had a mother once

she disappeared

he cried alone at night

he blinked

he is here

his hanging head shakes

as he walks

it is a slanted gait

his form is half the length of the stall

and the full width

he sort of turns

I open the latch

his head pops

he sort of gallops

as much as one can gallop in a cage

out of the stall

all the while looking at me

he is out of the stall

still he looks at me

go

he runs around in a circle on the grass

doesn’t go far

in a few minutes

he turns around

walks back to the stall

stands in the shaded right corner

head down

Human Hungry

If you tell me you are famished

I shall promptly gouge your eyes out

with a fork

you do not know what famished means

famished is not minutes, hours or a day

it is the days after

the pangs become soft

you try not to think about it

remove food from brain

to find place for thought

to think thought

to find food

therefore you

sit and think

driven to craziness

you know of its taste

it is everywhere

but not for you

the moments between

expectation

and

impossibility

those moments

think thought think

so you just think

than you think

you can do anything for this food

to assuage your hunger

than you realize

you will do

any

thing

it

takes

to

make the

pain of longing

for food

disappear

as you walk

past plates full

of food

that people

in blissful existence

have thrown away

they are full

too fat

too shy

don't care about food

they have other things

to think of

food is a passing

thought

my thought

my though

my thought

as you watch

them

a bite

balanced delicately

on the tongue

it dances

oh it dances

of cabaret proportions

to the throat

slides

to waiting

stomach

you are

more hungry

think thought think

you can do

anything

for it

kill

prostitute

you watch

her push it away

it is being sent

to the dump

it is then

you realize

you cannot

you won't

grab that

gold

off that plate

as they

look at you

with pity

at your pathetic self

shall you

climb into the dump

and pick the

food out

along

with the

disease

you realize

you cannot

then

the starvation

begins.