Am unable to locate the source
From which it issues –
It seeps out when the dishes
Want washing, or when
I look into the eye of the moon.
I speak it out loud, so it need not
Seep no more – only then it evades
Articulation, goes hiding, pretending
Beneath the sofa it don’t exist at all.
Why so afraid – to be trapped?
All such wild things fear the Trap,
Vicious though they may be, pacing
Back and forth in the cage,
Useless postures, docile without
Intention, ineffectual, subjected.
Orientalists prized the pride
Of the jungle. Or was it
Shame that soared above
Gilded cages of
Emulation?
Without a wound, one wonders
Where the pain should issue forth?
Pace back and forth:
Articulate.
Wait.
The Unstitute 