Hostage

I walked into a book
And was strapped down in a seat
Held hostage by a caffeine addict
Who had had no one to talk to for five years.
Maybe it was the miasma of the place
Maybe he breathed a hallucinogenic fume
Because midway through his rant
He began to make sense.

Hostage

He watches with false eyes the lay of the snow
The whiteness a great blankness
Although his brothers tell him the words for it:
The powder that is freshly fallen
The permafrost that refuses to crunch underfoot
The colors of blue like lampshades thrown
Each tint uttered with the same reverence
Shown for a beautiful woman
It is not until much later that he learns he was born
In a palace of eternal summer
And snatched away during the heat of battle
A babe pushed into a cuckoo’s feathers