Eat up the last carnivores,
their anger shrunk, their skin
useless. Divide the salt,
mark the water, conscript
the ones who’ve grown
a year. Scrape out the
clinging gasoline from
a skyline too sharp and heavy
to squeeze through. Today,
the future is here and taking
all of us with it. All the tiny
citizens have decided what
to carry, even the shiniest ones
with their rooms full of rooms
and their worry pinched up
before rain, even the
betting men with their
passports on the table.
What will you say
to the ones you promised
forever? You chewed down
our odds to soup-bones
and spit out the ligament,
the heat which will soon
overtake us, our language
burning out word by word,
our last committed optimist
on a suicide mission
against the future.