Thursday, August 12th

did you hear that?
could it be a wild dog
or a lost child?
could it be your mother,
your sister,
or maybe one of the others?

what will you say when
they come to take you away?
when they lead you down
that long corridor and through
the great steel doors to your final
destination,

how will it feel?
knowing your time is
almost up,

and soon you'll be nothing
but a memory,
as they are,

memories shining on
and on through the silence
that has become their tomb,

their hopes and dreams have
been summed up in some small
corner of a newspaper somewhere
for people to line their pets' cages with,
tear drops and flowers on smooth
granite slabs,
and patches of broken earth

how will your last meal taste?

dull and earthy I bet

- Stephen W. Brodie