THE CITY OF BURDEN

AND OF THE BURDENED

Industrious endeavors are the best way to distract your mind

A sense of dignity and purpose to dull the edge

Of your entrapment

And perhaps it will please your Keeper

Her visits have grown more infrequent

Her provisions more scant

Fresh basins and linens

Ink and parchment

Water and spirits

Fuel for the brazier

And food

Repetitious food

Unbearable monotony

Mutton for breakfast

Mutton for supper

Mutton cubed and

Mutton quartered

Mutton of the strangest cuts and varieties

So as to make it almost unrecognizable

Save for the familiar taste

You’d never known the taste of mutton before the quarantine

You used up all the seasoning long ago

Even the salt has given out

Or so your Keeper tells you

Though sometimes she brings vegetables

Or other tender sundries

Cabbage would be wonderful

Broccoli a treat

But you digress...

Your Keeper left you sticks and straw

In hopes you might assemble brooms

To lighten her labor

Or your quarters could use some sprucing up

Some dusting, scrubbing, sweeping

If you don’t do it

No one will

The day is passing quickly and you haven’t found a purpose: