Escaping that sense
Of pure instant joy,
Unbalanced on a ladder,
Gary followed his placard
Into the mincing machine,
It took his hands
And arms first,
Then his head
And every thought
That he had.
All the onlookers agreed
They’d never felt
So disturbed and aggrieved,
As the conveyer belt
Conceived
It’s new shimmering meat.
Like this:
Like Loading...
Related
This entry was posted on September 7, 2019 at 3:33 am and is filed under Poetry with tags british poet, modern poetry, new poem, new poetry, poems, poetry blog, poetry examples, poetry sites, poetry uk, poetry writing, the end of the protests. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.
You can leave a response, or trackback from your own site.
Leave a Reply