Non-Member (Poetry)

I stand ignored outside the seamless door —
massive, bolted shut — so thick and tight
against my dream of membership. I’m stuck
in nomansland — my application has
no weight of sponsors — not one single name
to recommend or grease a stubborn lock.

The bouncers are invisible — the lack
of letters — black credentials like a charm
strung silent — those degrees that guarantee
a welcome old-boy thick with bonhomie...
I hear their voices raised in mutual praise
singing forth their anthems, smug inside

a club designed exclusive and secure
from infiltrators weakening their ranks —
outsiders pushed forever to the edge
where light can’t touch them with a moment’s fame
or talent find itself a modest home.
The password is a secret. Mum’s the word.

There is no clue to break the code. No key.
The network sews the lips and seals the way.
The rights of birth and privilege rule the day —
connections and position pull the strings.
Both Art and Commerce mulishly reject
mere passion’s claim as passport to success.