Genocide
Flying, eight tall, beautiful spires ascend towards the sky
onto a thin silk wire of silver and white.
Lovely it rises so high.
Why must we **** the spider to save the butterfly?
to keep that sacred silence?
to savor your favored violence?
never far...
The floating bird touches the golden beach.
A medicine man welcomes them with open arms,
but from the belly of the beast comes a leech
with butterfly wings