today's hope,
just as
yesterday's,
was smothered in
dislocated failures
debauched filth
and disgust.

fog thick
with ash
swallowing trees
suffocating the
day as its
hours slump
into tiny coffins

one at a time
you can stand
there in the
small church
at the end of
your street
weeping
quavering into
the last moments
of this,
the final
minute put to
rest.