the roaches of wrath (a dream)

in the apocalyptic parking lot outside the Magic Fortress
the caravansary contemplated another dreadful sunset
and circled the station wagons and passed the ammunition
and muttered curses and imprecations into the night
horse drawn hummers with engine blocks emptied
catch the orange glow on a rusty door hinge
reek of roasting roaches in popcorn cookers
purifying urine becomes refreshed water
and a dusty supper of insects and vegetables
farmed in the rolling rusting shells of cars
and the preacher says a bitter grace over his portion
remembering some rich meal past
and father says he is faithless and should be grateful
for even this humble repast

father says we will find a way into the Magic Fortress
and find the security that now excludes us
and ride the rides and shop in stores and rest in rooms
i was born in the parking lot like so many others
huddled against the walls of final sanctuary
where the chosen and saved shop and save
the vast cathedramall of sacred luxury
the total freedom of total security
marble pools full with fresh water
medicine and meat and beds with sheets
surely the last refuge of Heaven on Earth
must have a gate somewhere
a place to enter for those of worth
to escape from hungry despair

the glow escaping from the fortress walls
the only light in the parking lot
the moans rumbling from the multitude
the only sound carried on the wind
the companions of necessity talk only when necessary
lest any undue attention be drawn
the night is the most vulnerable time
to be swarmed in the dark unaware
to be killed or join the starving homeless
and lose everything in the world
the starving man stumbling into the circle is almost shot
but discovers a corner of Earth where mercy is still blessed
the preacher was silent; my father made the guards stop
and the mother with no husband nurses him at her breast

2 Responses to “the roaches of wrath (a dream)”

  1. Oh wow. This is powerful, really powerful.

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