It is a pill like the sun
It is deft it is like the
Scoured lick of a corporation
It is a pill infantilising the world
With political goo
Take it and the professional delusion
Of the multinational will heal
All your whims ‘til they are tied up
In a box made for your safety
Made of luminous skin and
Sutured by correctness
It is a pill in a box but not Jack
But not a pillbox rained on by
Jerry bombs general lifetimes ago
Or peed on by aspartame futures
It is not a dugout where the derma
Of crafted races is kept
Like Satan’s grins
Or the thud of spade in clay
Hefted for deracination
It is a nation of pills accumulated
Like mutations and like change
Like the landscapes of animals shaped
By the light of contemplation
Shifting over hills
It is the box where the bric-a-brac
Of snapshot times now moulders
At the edge of albums at the edge of hands
It is the box where value is kept.
(C) N J Green