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Do you think that group photo makes it right?
Are you saying my absence completes your circle?
I'm still there, you know.
I'm the ghost where now the cameraman sits.
His eye is mine, and I see through you all.
Futile: my attempt at comradeship;
Counter-productive--your collective reliance
On peers to act as prison guards,
Proctors and sticklers enforcing the rules,
Foremen to lash your backs with their whips,
Sadistic sled drivers, "Mush, damn you, mush!"
A thousand words by eleven, or else . . .
No more lattes for you.
My muse lays her supple hands upon me
Like a gentle snow;
We collaborate far from the harried horde.
Your need for crewmates deprived of rapport
Reminds me of canines in shelter cages,
Steel meshes dividing:
Isolate, exposed, and each dog awaiting
Its euthanasia.