Never In It

by Walker Zupp

As I flip through my Facebook feed, I find

Photos of people in fields – grinning, smoking

Sitting, sometimes standing: a beguiling

Look at the English upper class. Unkind

Though, they may be, they’re happy in their field.

The house is in the background too: humped up

Monstrosities of brick and slate concealed

In trembling grass. ‘Whose field?’ you might ask.


With the rest as far as I’m concerned, yet

Always theirs, even when their back is turned.

But they themselves were turned by design,

Snubbed by sense. Why are they smiling?

Is it a threat? Incensed by this I stare until my eyes

Burn, for you must be blind to share the laughs

And the dissatisfaction that satisfies.

Then again, it’s only a photograph.


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