Suddenly yes that’s it
The primal sin of modernity
The one the poet spoke of
The iron cage the scientist spoke of
It’s ennui
Not even fully domesticated in our language
So new and yet so firmly seated

A different poet spoke of
A stifled drowsy unimpassioned grief
This isn’t that
It is a kind of desire no doubt
A lack an emptiness a defect a removal a shortage
An earliest loss
The invention of a truly original sin

Life begins with already-lost
The infant clothed cleansed and fed
According to well-established principles
Comes to believe in the advent of mercy
And soon experience
Transposes this expectation
Into the key of satisfaction

The builders of the pyramids didn’t have it
Nor did the condemned in solitary confinement
No you have to have money to spend
Or patronage or a line of credit
The compulsion to buy
The consumer’s addiction
Anything to fill the hole

Knowing full well
That no muffin will indicate contrition
No image of nourishment
Even of the beggar’s fleas
Will suffice or satiate that craving
And so we seek ever more thorough
Delirium

The contrary is also true of course
And many acts deliver fulfillment
But the bars of the prison cell are permeable
Our fellow inmates
Close enough to touch
But touch them we dare not
So fresh the mouth upon that gaping wound