To Protect Our Gods
In this instance, the priests
in dark cotton robes, and dirty,
their dishevelled hair matted with blood,
and flowing wildly over their shoulders
rush in among the people,
calling on them
to kill;
to protect their gods.
And now all is war
where so lately there was peace,
and the sweet brotherhood, the use
of tilled fields.
hear!
hear, where the dry blood talks
where the old appetite walks
I pose you a question:
shall you uncover honey
where maggots are?
I hunt among stones.