an empty building can become a morgue

only the dead 
                                               wear socks to sleep


the mind
                                               this  sheath of flesh


 automaton
                                               worked  by invisible wires


only the living 
                                               palpate what can't be seen
           
                     
a master plan
                                               a sand dollar


a chalk-white cliff
                                               yet bodies pile up  


in a post office 
                                              dark ringlets of hair


only the dead 
                                             delivering messages

as they go
                                             into the earth