Again desire gallops hostile indians ‘round me.
My fingers dream safaris.
But the dark overseer lifts his whip
and I sullenly return to work.
Child of few summers
you are born to poverty
and will never know serenity,
once begotten by man.
Somehow your genes spilled
into a teen mother
who could not find another
nurturer of sons.
School feared and hated you
and prepared you with derision,
for crimes, drugs, the streets, prison,
victim of indifference.
| Gary Beck's poetry
has appeared in dozens of literary magazines. His
chapbook, The Conquest of Somalia,
by Cervena Barva
Press. His recent fiction has been published in numerous literary
magazines. His plays and translations of Moliere, Aristophanes, and
Sophocles have been produced Off-Broadway. email: firstname.lastname@example.org