Day 77 of 100 Poems/100 Days

Artis

Streamline, knock the rust off,
to a sound,
the trumpet blowing down the hall.

Outside, along the canal edge,
I am covered by animal grunts.

I find the beasts,
their wings and their legs,
handcuffed and hogtied,
as if ready to be thrown
into the sky.

I find the hunters and the hunted,
sleeping in the same cages,
and in an empty one
I plant my things,
and watch the animals breathing.

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