Cages

And the thoughts – words, pictures, sounds –
keep circling like sharks
(going round and round and round)

who’ve smelled the taste of blood; hounds
that growl and drool and bark;
and the thoughts, words, pictures, sounds!

A tightening of the chest so profound
that it feels like it’s left a mark.
Going round and round and round

in my head, those words resound,
like the trumpets’ call, quarter-tones apart,
and the thoughts – words, pictures, sounds –

never stop. Cats in cages in the pound
that yowl and screech and scratch. Parts –
going round and round and round –

chaotic, dark, that are forever bound
for their own horrific arc…
And the thoughts – words, pictures, sounds-
going round and round and round.