it is with a morose gratitude 
that I am to dispense justice 
like a drug
at the hurlish demands 
of screeching bicuspids 
unaware of the lurch :
the shuffle of their own cloven hooves 
at the trough of the damned 

"to death," 
you declare
eager to eat the softened bones 
of your own impunity 
"To life"
a toast raised as a scythe falls 
and another trauma is passed
like blood thru...

Read and leave comments (5)