Mother
of invention
centre of detention
a scientist’s solution to
a mortal manmade mess
measured on a quota
twelve thousand places only
a handful in the lottery --
forget about the rest.
Starving, stitching, screaming
drowning, diving, freezing
running, retching, reeling
they still don’t pass the test
beaten, broken, bleeding
castigated demons
media pariahs
a threat to public taste.
The
Caretaker is strident
our country is not open
no soft touch for criminals
who abuse our decent ways.
We will not let them meet us
no matter what it costs us
the principle is rigid
we decide who stays.
Of
course, we’ll treat them fairly
we’ll feed them every morning
we’ll let them speak their language
we’ll let them say their prayers
we’ll even take them shopping
on a day the press is angry
we’ll show our decent public
that their decency is safe.
But
the sleeping public’s edgy
the lies, the spin, the cruelty
the politics of borders
that tests this nation's faith
questions in the mirror
some see themselves as they are
sleeping-class contrition
unfortunately too late.
