08-11-2010, 10:32 AM
18 big rubber wheels
hot on the pavement
stacks of bones
long on the bed
wide and thin
powerful chains
wrapped around them
make that eerie
clinking sound
the red marks there
as if to show
the blood
bone marrow
center
Oxygen givers
were the trees
giving air
freely, to you
and me
but now
they’re wasted
log bones
hauled
across the
highways
instead of
growing in
the forests
the sacred trees
cry out for mercy
in their only voice
silence
they wait in hope
for a rescuer
to one day come
but there is none
no – not one
log bones
dead
on trucks
stripped of
their glory -
just so we can
wipe our ass.
[/b]©
7/14/2010
Bianca
Bianca 