We all fall down
As death tips down his dominoes
And burned to silent specks we flow
To ashes, buried in the ground.
We all fall down
Together now, but grubby fingers
Can’t hold down
The soiled souls of this poor town
They’ll be imprisoned
All around
The ashes, burned and flaking off
Fill our lungs until we cough out
The poison in our mouths, so soft
Until we break the cold standoff.
Poetry