While everyone slept she stared at the moon
she dreamt at the stars
through reinforced steel bars
and glass louvers.
She sang softly to the night
her only comfort there
and wished that he could take her far from fear.
Clipped wings, tied and tucked like pig's guts
the scent of their misuse almost as pungent;
blackbird, why do you stop singing just as
dawn's peaks climb the mountain green?
and morning's fingers sweep your weary brow?
She sweetly replies
through sad, dark eyes and
dreams dim:
"It is because there is no dreaming here".
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