Every body is a ruin
A crumbling facade upon which history has wrought triumph and defeat We drape it in celebratory bunting Allow others to visit Sometimes to worship Some will take chunks as souvenirs The wars waged over it so frequently civil And like all war, ultimately futile The territory never changes hands Not really Merely a series of occupations failed colonizations The would be possessors determining the venture unprofitable The cracks and flaws deepening with each abandonment But the mythos grows And it's up to us to decide whether we're the site of a haunting slaughter or a successful enduring peace
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Awoken from a dream featuring my grandfather
The first and only in the eight years since he's been gone Burned, boxed, and buried, he was partially Spread over his favorite places In the dream, he was asleep Mouth hanging open While taking a midday nap in his brown recliner Where he was so often found in life I had gone missing And so had a cat It wasn't me they were looking for I was somehow implicated But I was actually stealing noodles Cooked in broth In a room painted blood red designed for the specific purpose of cooking and eating just this thing I was hoping not to get caught Slinking from room to room As I was pursued The cat was with me Though he had not had any noodles A partner without crime While my grandmother called for us both And grandpa snoozed unaware Stirring only as I woke His eyes flicking open As mine did I wonder if he was wearing his teeth |