They eat as many of us as they can.
And then they slowly start to fall to bits.
It’s a slow process. Cell by cell it hits.
Bones disconnect. They stumble. In a span
of weeks they will be rot, tatter and shard.
Some of us live. We hide. We eat cold food
from cans. Snare and kill rabbits. In a wood
we have a cabin. Our survival’s marred
by what we’ve lost. The cities turn to dust
take art books music with them. We forget
all that we were,or loved or hoped for. Yet
the worst of all the things we lose is trust.
All strangers are the dead returned. Our fear
will go on killing, year by bloody year.