The hat did not make the boy
they even wanted to select their prefered neighbours.
The dusty unused courtyard
long buried prayer books loitered.
If there was a God he was already made
in their own image,
insular and grunt.
To surrender to their leaden aviary
the cage wouldn't need bars,
archaism would ablute the soul
the world outsiders
a plank walkway the only means.
Sep 21, 2013
Sep 21, 2013 at 12:58 PM UTC
The hat did not make the boy
they even wanted to select their prefered neighbours.
The dusty unused courtyard
long buried prayer books loitered.
If there was a God he was already made
in their own image,
insular and grunt.
To surrender to their leaden aviary
the cage wouldn't need bars,
archaism would ablute the soul
the world outsiders
a plank walkway the only means.
Request permission to use this poem