Poison on the wind.
POISON ON THE WIND
If I tell you these bodies had birthdays would that peel them upright from photographs make them as real as you, eating popcorn? From the flat symbolism of statistics, I have walked into their horror God, they have eyes they wear shirts with buttons the living drink water from cups, they are not, I tell you television ghosts zzzip on and psst off The bodies stink they need to be disposed of quickly, with ululations of bull-dozers and water-drinking relatives stretch out grieving burnt hands to the shirts with buttons and the statistics who fill them limp Did I mention there are animals, too? Donkeys and cows, their ears in such unnatural, stick-out shapes, not flapping at flies in the 115 degree heat
It comforts me you are safe I need comfort You and our girl at home sitting in the big brown chair eating popcorn Newspapers fanned around the hand-made rag rug your aunt gave us for Christmas white on rose on red on rust You flap a page in air our girl jabs the other side What's that? Giant worms from New Zealand, you say turning the paper over worms the size of garter snakes should we get some for our garden? No way, she says has a drink of her sparkling water and lime cordial Is my birthday soon?