You close your door the way a warden locks a cell.
The iron clank of the bolt sliding into place
is a sentence upon the rest of the world,
“Step ye no further on pain of punishment.”

Or am I the guard and you the prisoner?
Do you reach around the bars to lock the exit
of your carefully crafted labyrinth?
I hope you are prepared to meet your Minotaur.

Sometimes I feel like a scientist in his lab,
sterile, objective, and ever so respectable.
How glad to have a top-view of your maze!
How ironic that you don’t know English.

I give you nudges like a ghost barely intuited,
give you pushes like an overbearing mother.
But the corridors of your world become thereby
Not familiar, but adorned with traps and horrors.

Mark the data. New hypothesis. Maybe music?
I sing my words to you in songs you might remember—
perhaps this specimen can learn language indirect.
But I seem to sing in lullabies: now you only sleep.

So the dusk of my experiment arrives grimly.
I shed the Enlightened myth that your Nature
Can be improved through torment and dissection.
The modern Midas touch turns sculptures into rubble.

Now I merely gaze upon you as you wander.
You weep in a rocky nook or hide from foggy foes.
Your health wanes and the cheese eludes you still.
There is nothing I can do but love you just the same.

Photo by ithinkx

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