it howls back at me
it howls back at me, darling

darling, why didn’t you save my babies?
I warned you about the line of ants
so many times

did my babies cry too loud?
could our neighbours hear them?
were you too busy begging?
asking more from the goddess of wealth,
fortune and virility?

here I write this poem for our little ones
like medieval poets
with a candle on my left, near my heart
and blood rouge wine on my right
where few ants are still left
and I might not **** them

did my babies cry too loud?
could our neighbours hear them?
were you too busy begging?
you know, darling, if your prayers –
are answers tonight
no praying hands are going to ask for mercy
from lord again, ever

I know there’s a moon shining too bright
doing its utmost to come closer to me
but a hideous humongous building stands between us
wrecked and damaged, yet too tall
monstrous, too haunted
helpless like us
too nightmarish