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the experiment

each little flask holds a clue 
to the image of our destiny:  

there is the death-mask in 
which i lied to my lovers,
and a delicately carved 
depiction of 
our insane cruelty.

and in the middle, stopped 
up with a glittering, wet cork, 
separated by dense balls 
of cotton wool, we have 
three social classes which, 
when seen through the 
thick glass of the flask,
look much larger than 
they really are.

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