you yearn
to turn
and churn
but you can’t learn
as the eyes watch through
the dark bars with mist
almost invisible,
there i am - trapped
with my master being cruel
slap my fingers when i drool
but takes even that i have
while drawing it’s bill
hunched on my shoulder
destruction is it’s pill
as it feeds on my envy
and loves my shrill
a shroud -  it covers me
consumes me  - drown
gurgling for air– i try again
seven times is not my friend
a plea i lay at his feet
its edges frayed and torn
and there find the mercy seat
all covered and worn
by the gnawing of the mind
to be set in time
while all the saints go marching by

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Patricia May Neiderer Cory Garcia
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