For Apollinaire 2.

They will call around soon
I know they will
In perplexing moon
And arsenic pill.
Smiling and waving in time
Handsome animals sublime
All feathered and full
With dinners divine.

.

They will call around I’m sure
And play a melodic tune
In prescription cure
With crutch and scalpel chain
As calling card in playground game
All bent in twisted pain.

.

They will call around
As they said, with my fill
From abandoned ground
With minds to kill
In holy shrine
That fades to prison black
And lash with poisonous vine
Across my weeping back.

.

They will call upon me some
Glory in cavalcade
With brick, sticks, knife and gun
Taking off my door in brigade
Ripping out my heart core
With skyscraper child blade
Throwing it to the floor
In kind insignificant grade.

.

Soon they will call
Uniformed, badges in attire dead
And march me to that wall
Eyes weeping red
Covered with root clothe monarch green,
Then stand back in row loud
Souls all machine
Take aim at my heart proud
And kill me dead as their job should
Left for dog’s to eat clean
In rivers flowing blood.

And if they should call around soon
Knowing to well all happy in chance
Animals frisky as moon
I’ll greet them gladly in final romance
And play a lively tune.

..