music hanging in the air
an ancient refrain keening
delineating
them from us
silks velvets furs
from the coarse cloth
down the hill
we were made of mud
hard broken bones
shit piss blood
bent backs fit for toil
& nothing else
theirs was the watching world
enjoying the spoils
make sure we worked
until our last breath
burdened with the curse
knowing we despised them
but wanting our love
worse
some of our weaker
brothers & sisters
did
