Whale Factory

One of these days I'll wake up between streetlight.
On that day I won't stir when my eyelids are pulled open
I won't groan or shout or dilate when they shine their flashlights in
and I won't respond when they call for me to answer. Please, God, answer.
I'll just lay there, crushed under the tracks left by one hundred aluminum feet
that had long ago trampled me deep into the ground
but still felt the need to reassert something already made clear.
All any of us really want is to be heard.