we set the fire
and shall harvest the ashes
out in the yard
they are flogging dead horses
swearing death oaths
and burying hope
they bury it deep
and stamp the dirt down
there’s scant hope of resurrection
into a world of carbon
further down the road
where the sun don’t shine no more
the names of our children
are scratched on stones
and the ghost machines are grinding out
obituaries no one shall ever read
.
