Chicken Run

Wading through reedy waters
you flee the terrorists
and jump on up into the canoe
it rocks
you steady it and paddle madly

They divided everybody into small groups
killed them all
despite it, they weren’t so bad
except for the toilets
the men they made
shit and piss on the cellar floor
the women and children
they let use the commode upstairs
one woman upset about her sick child
they pushed onto hands and knees
onto that reeking concrete foundation
“God please no,” she cried
“I don’t want to die
face down
looking at shit.”
the pistol barked
and those were her last words
a description
of her last sight

But you escaped, fled
you and two others
leaving behind
your son, your wife
to die
maybe or maybe not
face down in shit
now you work to forget
beer work, whisky work
hard work in hard times
a labor of lost love
a proud construct of cowardice
rising monumentally over ruin

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