Et Al. Poem by Morgan Michaels

Who they are don't ask-
you're not supposed to know
Ulysses tethered to the mast,
they're the ones who row,
ears stopped up with wax,
and get him safely past
the straits of his undoing, deaf and dumb,
and slightly farther on to kingdom come.
They never writhe, gnash or roll their eyes
to hear the sirens rhapsodize
because they do not care to know one bit
the joys of the illicit
but pleased to tread the narrow and the straight
dutifully stand and only wait.