Poem XXXII: The Moons of Mars

PHOBOS and DEIMOS
the two small
misshapen moons of Mars
of Ares and Aphrodite
the offspring
busy little monster babies
horrible-eyed
their skulls always getting bashed in
by asteroids

PANIC and TERROR
they stay always at hand
bent on their orbit
always cutting their busy path
through bloody battle
at their father's feet
the war-god
Ares

you can tell
the mother left their raising to him

Poem XXIII: Obsequies

TODAY I finally buried
Polyneices
the mole
which Argos killed
sometime back in November
!

He'd been lying exposed for months
in  sun and rain
snow and frost.
The birds and dogs of excarnation
were letting us down.

We waited for them to do the right thing
but they all cruised by like
'No thanks.'

Finally, today,  I said, 'You know what?
Forget it.'
and grabbed a shovel
and some tongs.

And now Polyneices the mole

is underground where he belongs.