Calloused to Birdsong

Draw a line.

Scrape it through trees.

Dissect mountains,

valleys,

lakes.

 

Forget the sun,

gaudy bauble,

wasting rays

whoring light and

fix your border,

 

set your limit

of responsibility.

 

Over there,

where the savages eat their young,

raw and

rutting in the dirt,

they’re  

not your people;

not your problem.

 

Let the tongueless screen decide, 

mute, earless.

 

Etch the end of care.

Mark your territory.

Piss on it if you must.

Be hard, safe and

calloused to birdsong.

 

Before,

did you believe?

Before whatever.

Before the need to hide

like cherry blossom on a council estate.

You can concrete the lot

but the weeds still grow.

 

But never mind.

Go set the edges.

Limit your care.

Draw the lines of empathy.

Weigh your needs against

the masses.

Scatter birds with pencil lines,

go draw a line, define 

by your opposite.