A Little Death
The trees are coming down
Or being brought
Down after obvious death
With carefully crafted
Brutality, dismembering
And a system they have
Devised over years
Of ropes and saws and luck
And skill cannot keep
Slivers of what once was
From flaying and flying
Are my little dry dyings
As obvious now to others
And are they waiting
With implements and grinding
Gear and machines
To do away with whatever
Last bits of me
Remain
-me
sometimesihatemycat 