Tell It To Stalin. Poem by Bjorn Visser

Preserved like a still
born. Un fed baby.
Whit coats with
peering eyes stare.
monitoring – not
breathing.

Walls of high ice covered
houses like heartless
children, don’t talk to
strangers.
never,
ever –
never.

A sleeping baby
Bottled up, are those –
gills?
does it breath?

Never,
ever –
Never
Bottled up, well preserved.
Do white coats
question you?
Monitoring?
Not –
Br-ea-thi-ng –

Never?