This Time
Before my time,
they used to line the streets
with the heads
of the defeated stuck on pikes,
heads
which rotted away in time
leaving only the pikes
standing empty.
This time
too little remains to separate
heads from bodies,
there’s too little left
to identify the defeated.
Winners and losers are all
remnants
in the rubble of the city.
If there are survivors
they could take empty helmets
and set them on pikes
instead.
The pikes would
rot away first
this time.
But there’s too little left
and there’s no one
to do it
and
no one
left
to see it
this time.
they used to line the streets
with the heads
of the defeated stuck on pikes,
heads
which rotted away in time
leaving only the pikes
standing empty.
This time
too little remains to separate
heads from bodies,
there’s too little left
to identify the defeated.
Winners and losers are all
remnants
in the rubble of the city.
If there are survivors
they could take empty helmets
and set them on pikes
instead.
The pikes would
rot away first
this time.
But there’s too little left
and there’s no one
to do it
and
no one
left
to see it
this time.
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