The chattermarks of dead men,
rich men,
gnawing at every trunk and stem
feigning grief and biting, biting
delicious mouthfuls, delightful helpings,
ripped from the mouths of babes unborn,
“Oh!”, they say, “Oh! Oh!
There is not enough to go around,
has never and will never be enough!”
they say, they say, their teeth clacking against bone,
jaws working to tear and swallow all the meat
of this world,
more meat than is needed by
any world at all.
Ancient Law
