Luxury Slaves

Your summer

immerses us in darkness.

Bound to the wheel of labour,

every comfort of yours we turn into wages,

and your pleasure into black broth

running from our eyes

to the marrow—

with nerves stretched like bows at full draw,

chasing after every whim of yours.

And when dawn breaks,

the sun rises upright,

to give you every joy and light,

while for us it lays

the toil of the day,

and the wheel must turn again…