or this baby left crying in the filthy snow
or sylvia found dead on her kitchen floor

an infected blanket for every indian
if that's what it takes

their corpses thrown into shallow pits
then burned
then the blackened bones left for the dogs

the churches built next to bars

the rivers of blood that pour out of
the factory doors

and what if there are no easy choices?

what if money is god and
god is addiction?

you start smoking at twelve
or you rape a girl at sixteen

you believe in the bible
that you buy at walmart

and nothing is promised and so
no promises are broken
and then a stranger approaches you
on the street

says that the man with the most money
is the one who will be king
and you can either bow down willingly
or you can be forced to your knees

you can either drive your bootheel
through the baby's skull
or you can die trying to protect it

don't ever believe
that winning doesn't matter





no great evil

saw you kneeling on your father's bones
heard you breaking like waves

listened in the cold white light of october
and the air tasted like plastic and
there were no more jobs

there was the dying man in
his house of dust and pain and there
were his children

there were blinds pulled in every room and
when i found you again
you were naked

when we touched
the poison was washed away

what i remember is
waiting for the moment to end






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