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Mammal
Dust accumulated in the streets
Making the air thick
And hard to breath
People wait in their houses
Looking out their windows
Into the town
Hoping the rain
Will soon come
Because it’s harvest season
And they ran out of food
A week ago
The people, now starving
Are becoming restless
For there is nothing else
Near by
But barren land
Two weeks have passed
And they’ve gone mad—yes
Given themselves over
To primordial ways,
But are no longer hungry.
They make fires at night;
When the dust has settled a little,
Dance around
The glowing flames—
Chanting frenetically,
Shouting obscene, maddened things
It’s been four weeks now
And they no longer feel
Any shame.
Sole dictated by instinct
They satisfy only
Their corporal needs
The dust is gone.
