Rust and Repose

The sturdiest of metals corrodes

With unrelenting time

Time itself may rust in space.

Cars pass and pass

The failing sense of urgency

Is revived at each passing rush of wind.

My repose, when will it come?

The tension tires me.

Who sits there,

Swaddled, waiting for fodder.

As men toil behind corrugated ramparts of steel,

Watch, as these here rust before time

Sucking the marrow from chicken bones.

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