sundays now whenever somebody dies
dante impedimente dilettante
is drawing the green over their eyes
the brigadier’s too high
before the dirt is even dry to recognize
all the granates need bleeding
to oversee dawn’s delicate seeming
beg the bread to rise
before the stems are even steaming
is too busy branding his smokes and open toes
again the next door down is closed
das arrondissement ist but isn’t mine
the skeleton brigade is weeded
before the gone to seed are seeded
but the dead still must needs have their wine
