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

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