Michael Amato

March 5, 1998 - Philadelphia
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Box to box

The words gamboled away from the worksheet,
From the desk it evanesced, made retreat,
Lecture rambled on, the desk left the floor,
My cell now bereft, immurement no more,

Inhuman eyes; I ran tossed from demise,
The box was the path, they proselytized,
To stray from it fatal, lost in the try,
I won’t fit your labels, cross from the lies,

A glance back at my peers, stringing along,
Inculcation here; a ring and they’re gone
Station to station, box to box inured,
Station to station, those boxes now lord

Boxes now nature; they govern their lives,
Box is fate they’re, neither dead or alive,
Took to eraser; the picture now fades
Luminous glacier; now ocean takes place

Boxes now nature, my dear friends I weep,
Box is their placer, lured into deceit,
If eyes are the windows their our souls,
Through clamped eyelids the doctrine in goes,

At their wake mourning, it may hurt to cry,
Not as much as mourning them while alive,
Box to box travel, you had a chance out,
But your soul meant less than charted route

Boxes promise wealth, promises you’re safe,
The box gives you help, the box gives a place,
The box will lead them, it’s path they all race,
Conform, content, toss the freedom it takes,

The walls gamboled away revealing streets,
Chains evanesced, yet they stayed in the bleak,
Lecture rambled on, no feet to the door,
The bars now bereft; were needed no more
68 Total read