Unhoused at the Last

You can’t leave them now,
The songs with a roof
Made of bone, polished,

Lick-and-spittle cleaned,
The long, glowing row
Of them, extending

From where you sit still
Gazing down the road,
Always down the road,

Following the dark
As it gathers, grows,
Until they vanish

Where the night turns real
As someone who likes
You, likes the circles

Your thoughts make of lights
In the gathering,
However grimly

You know the reason
The turn to twilight
Involves the butcher

Who raises rapists
Who serve the warlord
Who’s on the payroll

Of the hegemon
Who will harm others
For calculations,

For shits and giggles,
For playing the one
Nasty piece of work

Reassured, in pledge
After pledge, he will
Be allowed to stay,

Be feared like a god,
Eventually,
Get killed like a king,

Like a dog, a growl
Shot without a thought,
A song through the roof.