with the careful measured
movements of a thief he places
pretty baskets on a scale
baskets of tiny skeletons one by one
birdlike and frail piled high
against his crumbling castle walls
woven by knotted hands too sore
to lift a bowl to hungry lips no matter
seldom paid enough to eat
he weighs and counts with glee
each batch of small bleached bones
a victory a testament to his wasting
sun whose hate trumps love and there
beneath his gaze they grow
stunted with despair and fail to thrive
worthless alive he craves the click
of little clavicles and ribs in baskets
he can weigh against his greed
(c) 2019, by Hannah Six
Image: Pixabay
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