On Reflection

because a box is a box: humans are cultivated

into said box without choice or clarification, specimens

only existing—as in: (you—i—us). flesh & frame—

restricted bone matter comprising a box reluctant

not to be a box. but nurtured inside the box, let’s say

form which is shaped by & indigenous, to, the box &

the creator of the holy box—only leading to another

question about, of course, the infamous box—form

turns deceitful inside the box like any [thing] caged,

leaning to a non-empathetic approach steeped in revolt

—is judas in waiting. note: the box is not universal

nor the universal. whatever hopes of otherworldliness

lies in the box itself. the box will not elongate, dissolve

or vanish without reaction to an action & here within

lies problem of perspective as in—there is none—zero.

along time’s continuum, color, too, is encouraged

for the sake of the construction of the box, which

is precious as flickering light, but cannot be verified since

darkness is the original concept of all things human.

Copyright Credit: Randall Horton, "On Reflection." Copyright © 2018 Randall Horton. Used by permission of the author for PoetryNow, a partnership between the Poetry Foundation and the WFMT Radio Network.

Source: PoetryNow (2018)