Report from Page 3

We scoop up all the knives and forks
And slicing up with wolfish ease
Place them as the grandest dish,
In this feast of gentle folk
Where with questions ‘how’ and ‘why’
We know how good or bad one is
And shoot with surest poison pitch
Names of all those still unhurt.
.
Today was quite a hefty meal;
A shameful case of one who had
Sold his heart for dollars’ sake.
We chopped and chew and ate with zest,
Leaving not one bone to rest.
I wash up hand and face and then
Wipe off all the trace of stain.

Yet the glass on wall does ooze
Blood and robbing all my peace
Conjures up some unseen feast
Where my bits of carcass lie.

Trembling every night in dream
I drink hard and vainly scream.