In The Land Of The Blind, You Must Exorcise Daily

There are those women and men whose observation
consists in an exaggeration, a statement made
by which they stand and proclaim that any logic,
any slight chance of disagreement betrays:
no affinity between you and I, none now or again

You have challenged my throne, knave or fool
you must begin to earn the abasement which I
endured, for ages even though
on the way you’re ex deus machina, and such
certainty invites the hallucination I dare not

Speak nor entertain, thus remaining yours alone –
shadow puppet to a fate abandoned long ago, phantom
noises echoing endlessly down those empty corridors

From which you strive to stray, limning the pain
the chalk efflorescence tainted now marking
the crime for which you stand in, whose safety
in abandonment eventually
you make haste your escape before it becomes memory

©Dean Baker

©All Rights Reserved

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