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For Them We Worked
Forgive this battery; tilt up your chin.
You're ready now.
Still, absent. "Help! Help!"
Life running in. Futile.
Puckered breath on silent chest.
Crushing pain and animal calls.
"Please! Please!" A familiar voice.
We work. Not for you.
You are lost, forever and complete.
Distinguished face, absent now.
Silver hair matted red and brown.
For them. We work.
Body rushed to mind's demented end.
Forgive us this dishonour on
Your ancient bones.
We press, counting, breathing.
Declined decision raises ugly head.
Of vomit, of blood, of tears and shame.
A bookcase bare of recent tome,
Crushed under laced fingers.
"What's the time?" It's over now.
Last moments made brutal.
Forgive us this horror.
For them we worked.
Copyright ©
Nathan Wilson
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