Praise be to the vultures, the maggots,
the gnawing worms and the low-slouching
mammals. Praise be to decay, for elsewise
the flesh would pile in stinking heaps, the
streets would clog with our elders, and
the tallest towers would go uninhabited.
A Wolf on the Fold
This line is smaller than the last.
a strong, unflinching poem. I love it
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