No Truce Entropy

No Truce Entropy


Our feet strung on a string
of dead bodies. We stoop

lost in the puzzle,
the sunk-eyed terror in our days.

So many rotting mirrors
on the burning plains

of the battlefield, uprooted.
Denouncing the afterglow 

of what was beautiful,
the paradox of useless power.

Purple dahlias shout obscene goodbyes
from decomposing breasts.