" THE STENCH OF DEATH "

May we dance then, you and me
In morning's light where bumbling bee's
As God's creation dare to waltz
And King's and General's, murderously
Reveal, the stench of death, coquettishly
Yes, the dance shall be
As warning bells, awaken the guarded façade
And hatred spills across the lawn
But this Ballet
Between you and me becomes the sawdust
That bloodied lathes, have so sweetly
Sculpted
Into the legs, upon which we dance
Oh please, do not ask
"What, of mornings dance?"
Remembering well
In morning's light, where God's creation
Did take your life
And dance the waltz
Upon your deserved,
And bloodied
Grave...

Tony Taylor   (Chicago)