OVOID

Last night I dreamed up prisoners of war

their bodies inside some armament

only their heads poking out, a horror.

How to eat, sleep, scratch the nose?

And I was late, so very late, to deliver an

important speech.  It's been forever

since that recurring dream of deadlines.

It's the new new pills, which are ovoid

instead of round. They cajole prisoners

into being and are themselves my jailers

the only hope for even nightmares.

I look forward to downing them tonight;

day is so overfull of freedom's tedious carnage.

Copyright Julianza Shavin 2008

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