Devoured by news bites
children cry in hunger for a small crust
but they are the offspring of humans
had they been pipelines they might have survived.
No, humans are destined for extinction
—too costly almost unpredictable
carnivorous, eating too much of this planet
enslaved by ego no longer knowing who they are
olfactory nerves teased by a whiff of hope
homeless shelters of men
taught emotions are lies and get in the way
—dignity an empty bank account.
On the menu: leg of Russia, dumplings Ukraine
bbq’d New York, Sushi, or the whole lot blended
into Creamed Nato
for dessert.
What will anthropologists find beneath
the surface of our graveyards?
What tools will identify the skills of this pillage
now denying the heart or mind any peace?
What do the poets think?
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