By Ishmael von Heidrick-Barnes
COLONEL SANDERS AND THE TOMBS OF THE KINGS
Nothing is sacred
not even the deceased
Final offerings
from beloved families and friends
looted
Bones carted away
names rubbed into dust
What is left of lives
sticks to shoes
is evoked from tree spires
in the cicadas breathless chant
Birds
flee summer’s furnace
in catacombs
carved for the departed
King Death’s icon
perched high above the city
demanding another sacrifice
for his altar
Thank you for this Ish. It’s beautiful!