BY DR. AGONSON
I run from the quiet in terror;
I cannot stand the noise
released from that deep well within me,
an unrepentant howl.
The mortar and brickwork surrounding,
this architect’s handcraft,
it fails in the due subjugation:
I’m less than what was planned.
I bow my knee again,
restricting my desire,
but buck at what is right;
I run into the night.