Green-glinting in the sun,
Aspark with berry spots,
Were chainsawed, tranche by tranche;
They collapsed as if spun
By a tirade of shots.
Manhandled
to the road,
The
chipper primed to run,They were fed to its teeth;
A stream of chips like blood,
Oscillating and dun,
Sprayed the deep bin beneath.
Man’s
life is like that stream,
Flung
like fumes from a gun,Melded but knocked apart
When death’s cave traps its beam,
Brain and brute limbs undone
To dust in the charnel cart.
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© February 2015
