One day we will crumple into piles of rags, used for wiping up messes and stuffed in window crevices to keep out the cold;
Or mounds of dust where our bones simply ground down to the ground,
Touching Earth like we touch a tabletop on hearing the bad news that the mines
have closed and a fire burned in the capitol
One day the helicopters overhead will stop
And even birds will abandon the sky
The zebras will all cross the border, and take with them our children, riding on their backs, looking forward, forgetting to look back
One day they will build dams in pools of our blood
Turning wine back into water,
And sell the electricity to rich people with TVs
One day we will whiten
Not of flesh, but of bone,
Until we are nothing but a set of teeth,
Complete and jawless
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