by Matt Nagin
Artwork, “Europe and America from the Facade of the Customs House in the Battery – NYC” by Howard Skrill
The dewdrops of death linger on the grey horizon;
a thousand drones sent into the mystical night armed
with the lies of a kangaroo civilization.
The dewdrops of death examine their own reflection; 70 billion
animals slaughtered for a mutated food supply; the winds
transmitting the desperate cries of a platoon of forgotten souls.
The dewdrops of death organize targeted bombings, catalogue
artillery fire, file rows upon rows of nuclear waste, and turn our
best leaders into soldiers who ceaselessly battle themselves.
Sweet dewdrops. Carrions of death. Grip us with your harsh,
steely fingers, for our future has already begun to slide away.