Like a child
within the boundary-line confines
Of the parental mind.
Where a barren
white room, holds the low
Echoing words of imaginary beasts.
Where doors stay
latched tightly
With child-proof
locks,
Time left to
perception,
Don't bother
hanging clocks.
Where promising lies
Of a mothers
melodic lullabies,
Tell stories of a
tomorrow guaranteed,
Limbs are cloth
wrapped,
For broken bones
of children miscarried.
Where wailing
mouths are silenced...
Not by the breast,
but milk of the flower.
They are weaned on wet bottles,
Which give them feigned power.
Now, this dull room stays lit
For the comfort of
sight.
Children like to
pretend
They have no
fright.
Sitting like
ducks...
For their fated
good night.
 |
| Location: Agnes R. Katz Plaza Eyeball chairs by artist: Louise Bourgeois |
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