Saved By the System In Waco
The real clues
are in the cobweb scraps
dropped by
hapless bronze birds
that will never
feed again
The children
are all there
in little specks of
brittle hopes in
black pieces
in the dirt
They lie there in
pools of sprinkler water
collected where it lay
Running down
heat bleached
wet white concrete walls
where globes of fire
all yellow and red
and hissing
danced in circles
around and around
Huddled in terror
they did not know
it was sent
so lovingly
to purify and protect
from some self-appointed
head of grace
of the fallen state
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