Poem #130 of 365

there are no bones on this map
not even the dead have a bed,
we've paved it with concrete and tar
and not even the birds can peck
sustenance now. it is all sealed up like
a contract, with expiration for all
guaranteed, and though this map
has no bones or veins now, i believe
it is certain we'll bleed.

that is how we will suffocate
on a planet shrink-wrapped
with the asphalt of greed.

and the stars will glisten on
and the stars will glisten on

copyright 2007 tammy melody gomez