mother's hunger for a holocaust
early songbirds at the wake of us;
preys of dawn with long, old faces
and now, eve, they're one of us —
want life be no more,
want hearts beat no more,
want i be no more,
but,
spare us, just this once —
is it too cruel to be
as cruel as the motherland's
beautiful people?
the thin skin of salvation
wrinkles after our sorry wants,
until its histrionic, concluding
ruin — it splits our ears, stacked
of fake silver and gold,
of a long, black stretch of trauma,
of deaths in our bones' wasteland,
there it decays
the light will come again —
i have ached for a long time,
i have ached for this world
to be my very prey
