Willing Prey Poem by Mark. A Heathcote

Given glass ceilings
We're all ring-fenced.
Drown in rank, tall-growing reeds
That'll sedge up all our sweet inlets.
While they widen their bitter, greedy outlets
They bask like piranhas, ready to leap and feed.
They'll snap at anything that breathes.
So, we must hover-
Like wispy blue dragonflies
And drink in stillness the morning dew
We must, on balance, be their willing prey.
Tremble and fall like autumn leaves
And yet resist combusting into living flames
Somehow, we must soar, soar without wings.
Bare on the emptiness, their stewardship brings
And live with barely enough money or hope.
Given glass ceilings
We're all ring-fenced.
We're all metaphorically milked.
It's an unwritten agreement.
They own us.