Defiler, Despoiler, Pillager

While we were not watching
or when we were tired and
falling asleep, who turned 
the key in the lock and threw it 
into the lake of our deepening
misgivings? Who put their lips
to the hose and siphoned the gas,
so all we heard when we fired
the engine was a mindless buzzing
like bees? They run up the steps
of any sacred temple, dressed 
in stolen furs. They smash
the windows in with their horns.
Whatever they touch turns
into bricks or bats or stones.
They straddle every chair as if
it were a sow or a mare. That
kind of naked need: a garish 
yellow on all their faces. 
Hearts made hard by the long-
held fear of their certain
coming extinction. 

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