by Nick Gisburne
A brute, a monster, screaming from its cage
Revulsion floods her senses, soaks her skin
The photograph infects her blood with rage
Her fury claws and clutches from within
The broken, scattered pieces of this place
Reveal a tragic portrait of the past
She finds what she was terrified to face
A strange, exotic life, which did not last
A freak show, burned, abandoned, laid to waste
Not home. Not prison. Both of them, at best
She knows the spiteful universe they faced
And wonders, prays, at last, they sleep, and rest
A single, ugly image of her son
Reminds her he had nowhere else to run
