Things Fall Apart
Things Fall Apart
The vultures gather
Flying in from the sunrise
Early from the west wind also
Carrying the scent
Circling now
Ready
For the prey to come
Dressed in suits, tie pins
And buttoned shirts
Serious faces crowding the cameras
Taking in the collapse
In real time
A carcass thrown
From the dark door behind
Sunlight dancing for the final time
From the blond mop
And small eyes and a sad heart speak
Weary words
‘The King is dead!’
But will the corpse occupy
The chair?
A nation waits
Holding its black and red flowers
Dark suits ready
To pay its respects
And disrespects
A legacy of too many dying
Without a hand to hold
And behind those eyes and
That dark door
Lie all the liberation from twelve yellow stars
And the howling tears
Of blue and yellow Mariupol
Of a red wall collapsing
Presiding over things falling apart.