for Art who cares
I am here trapped in this body.
I have no border for me to flee beyond.
I am captive to my own dysfunction,
the failure within; not driven without
by hatred separated in multiple bodies.
My mobility is powered by the controls of my chair.
Your mobility is in convoys of the cars and tractors
fleeing from pain;
the long corridors of refuges, the masses of shame.
I feel the enemy of ourselves closing in,
all the while wondering why we are helpless,
unable to avoid our own common unfolding tragedy;
in this flower of humanity’s Spring
lloyd marbet 4/17/99