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Come First Midnight To Bury The Dead
Wander through the trench of bodies,
torch held high, the volley's prose.
Overhead the sun still shown,
heat and radon, Oh';
the bliss alight,
the corpses mount come first midnight.
Thus we take the bodies,
the mountainous trench of bodies,
we take them down from whence they fell
and bury their stories for some to tell.
The laborious task to cleanse the streets,
for come midday the feat repeats;
and come midnight again;
we grab our shovels and bury the dead.
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Author notes: As the sun intensifies and summer brings it's heat to bare, I think of the
people without shelter or roof, or shade to hide by. Having to sustain heat stroke by the
minute, all to satisfy the cavalier apathy of those unwilling and incapable of being
bothered by the suffering of others.
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