Glistening
drops of oil
Beading
up on silent waters
Like
quarters on Army beds
Black
like the plague of death
They
leave behind
Unforgiving
of the innocent
Greasy
sheets of oil
Clinging
to silent feathers
Like
shrouds marking mass graves
Carelessly
thrown over all
In the
rush to cover nakedness
As if
the dead cared anymore
Slow
unkindly demise
Of
Nature's treasures
Rape of
the expendable
By the
reprehensible
For the
untenable
Reason
of wealth
God have
mercy
On us
all
Earlene
McCoy
©2002
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