Silver Spoon

I linger in your spaces

Walk and walk,

Possessed by beauty

Admiring your painted ceilings

The sandstone arches;

When you build

You build beautiful walls.

Once I thought us, siblings

Born under the same moon

But Oxford reminds me that

You’re the one 

Born with a silver spoon

They’re playing the first chords of

Thus Spoke Zarathustra

Within Plato's lackluster cave

My heart  -

A cat writhing 

Under truck tires -
Spits as

Young orchestra players sway with grace

Sheldonian angels

In the name of the Father, blessed.

Your tribe wear privilege ever-so-lightly

As if it were an expensive coat

You wouldn’t mind leaving behind

In the Bodleian Library