BY DR. AGONSON
Abandoned to this prison made of glass,
upon this shelf where notes and dust amass,
forgotten by the madman who made me—
a bauble kept which still has eyes to see.
I gaze out from my jar with ceaseless sight;
unblinking vision shows ungodly fright.
The scientist must yet experiment,
dissecting victims with not one lament.
And all the time I still can see and hear
their screams of fright and faces filled with fear.
Yet who am I to moan over my state,
for I’m the one who caused my bitter fate?
I taught the hands which turned to vivisect;
they worked the deed just as I did direct.
I longed to have this immortality
while seeing not this dread finality:
eternally to wait within this vat,
a butchered clump of cells and cloistered fat.
The days and nights have all blurred into one,
interred within this lab without the sun.
Tale Told 