a fresh imperative from
the corporate office: organic growth.
we treat each other
as in nightmares
worshiping money.
a supervisor
chews off the arm of
a receptionist; the management
orders the production
department sawn in half;
& half is drown;
every third living heart will
be removed.
the others they torture
with blind eyes &
clumsy hands.
a crowd of workers with
white cloaks & masks
looks on in
silence.
after all, they have to
make a living (but what
does it smell like?); and need
to put bread on the table
(but how does it
taste?)
all angelic-human
gestures have been
banished. you see them
wandering vagrantly away
coughing up blood.
no honor.
no glory.
no inscriptions.
no memory.
how do we permit this
to happen to each
other?
wordlessly & without
screaming.