Standslave
slapandkick
blindbecameblame moreandmore—
metal men at attention
bidents raised heavenward
radiant golds,reds in banisters
eyes meet in passing
before rubbernecking backwards.
Automatons grow thunderous
an unknown crowd below applauds
before the last cheers taper off
and a man steps forward bathedincloth
I am Mordred, your new lord,
serve me now, forever, or facethesword.
No panacea for panic but passing through
as I see hands fit into grooves enshackled.
No pasture for the chattel to ruminate in solidarity—
one Labyrinth squarely exchanged for another.