A Poem by Uma Gaffney
They have no faces, these humans,
Only eyes, small, turned down.
No noses or mouths, just blanks
of crinkled blue, or sometimes white.
They move quickly, on unsteady legs
But slower when they connect themselves
to strange cages on wheels,
Where they trap their quarry.
They fear each other,
Mother clutching her young away from strangers.
They hold their breath as if
there was poison in the air.
On the walls, some people put up colored boxes,
But more snatch them down for their cages.
It seems there are never enough,
And the more they take, the less there are.
They are like prey-animals, mostly.
They can speak, but choose not to.
And in their small eyes, unshed tears
if for a second, they should touch.
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