Songs For My Brothers
Oh my brothers
How many
Of us
Fox
Will survive
The coming
Long night
Of the ending age?
In the deep countries
We hide
And sup
On the glowing
Locust
As the comets strike
And humans
Disappear
Into their dark
Recesses of
Their ranch
style homes.
Their
Automobile
Parked Murderous
on the twisting roads
Of their success
Midnight journeys
Remain empty and quite
In Their quick
Decreasing.
Rusting into the
Metallic bones
Of prehistoric beasts
Even the giant
Dandelions cry glossier tears
Of seeds
For humans passing.
Come brothers let
Us write our songs
On the flattest leaves
and cover the blank
And empty windows
Of human homes
To not wake
The dead
Through the lack
Of grief
For their passing
For fox
Always have
Their well dug holes
In which to sleep.
Copyright © Andrew Rymill | Year Posted 2019
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