No Sympathy
No Sympathy
The pressing stillness swells like a thousand sighs.
The willows sniff and nod to each other as the breeze is spiced
with his prey and the reek of blood and denial.
All Hail! The Lord of Chaos is hunting, teeth gnashing,
its time to give pain a try.
The crows stand by, eager to eat with the rats and the roaches.
Thunder growls with hunger and the night things are enticed,
another victim will soon go on trial.
Court is in session! Small hearts beat faster, noses twitching,
as the beast approaches.
His brand of death is so pretty, that maybe you won’t mind.
The tall grass chuckles as the skies weep for your sacrifice.
They're taking pictures and horror’s in style.
Smile now! It’ll be easy to let him eat you while the world watches,
since you’re the last of your kind.
By Jeanne MacGregor Lahn
This poem was written by Jeanne Lahn on Jan 31, 1997.
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