Scott Malby on the Other Side of the
Orpheus at Lost Bay
Orpheus wakes. Another day of busting his hump
at a factory job. Sanitary engineers in overalls
with plastic gloves heave their mounds of garbage
into trucks.Streets shake before they shine, scoured
clean by huge machines. All ancient rituals are done
except for one. Sing Orpheus, sing. Get in your car
and drive. The world of 9 to 5 demands its sacrifice.
There's bills to pay. Rich men expect you to dance
for them until your back breaks, your thighs crack
and after twenty years or so, your creative talent
withered on the vine, your orchard plucked
of its choicest fruit, you die inside, your dreams
now part of the garbage the morning gathers up.
© Copyright Scott Malby 2004