Cages And Stages Poem by Naveed Akram

Cages have stages of dwindling pleasure,
My fixture is safer than all of the fixtures,
Inside one of the hats a rabbit runs tonight.
Without a reality of ounce, a rabbit can pounce,
Opening the young gates, offering the states
Of an animal of endeavour, in the deeds only.
Then words capture a soiled shirt,
The rigour of sight is honestly led,
Why do spaces fill with pains and decisions?

The cage of the cow is turning to beef,
The pen of the chickens is turning to roast,
A kennel turns into dog-meat, as
The sheep turns into hot mutton.
My cages are stages of the raging winds,
Meat is stolen, blown and corroded
By windy erosions so empowered by sight.
Where is the sight of the wind?
When do they stir like pencils and pens?