Take Home Trophy

Into the night they come
these purveyorsREQUIEM
bedecked in Kevlar,
mortar, and silent

They hang their hats on
our sadly stooped heads
smiling inanely,

as if expecting the eyes
to greet theirs
a conciliatory gesture
announcing consent

Yet our gaze conveys
How can we do more
than stand, when our limbs are so many
distended fragments, fingers swinging on clear
milky hinges?

We cannot even signal defiance
or exclaim
a deluge of banalities

No air swells our beings
It has been displaced
we are vacuous, vacant sacks
hung precariously from rusty blood soaked,
iron hooks

no release
nor unabated cries

Our bodies stiff, apoplectic
The epidermal tissue
lays pieced together with
children’s glue

The fluids have
weighted pylons
No more human

A mass distortion
to be displayed
in glass cases and
over fireplaces

where holiday wreathes
are hung
Christmas Carols are sung
and the adoring faces of
family smile, carefree
and full of love.

Blood, Bone and Stone

Copyright 2014© Aria Ligi from Blood, Bone and Stone
Mighty Muse Productions