Owls in Concrete Cages

September 28, 2010
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I have forgotten my wings. This cage, gleaming & cold & cruel, confines them. My prison is made of stone; I have not left it since I was thrown in. Lacking a door, this contraption is unbreakable. The ornate top was hoisted on by 3 men & it will not budge until the day I fall over dead. I am kept in a park, a sophisticated one where young lovers picnic & children do not play. Along the walkway, my brothers are lined up in the exact same manner: owls in concrete cages. Here we are. See us dying in the day .





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