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#QuemDeclama é Spiralist: “Autophagy” – The Quarantine Poems II

#QuemDeclama é Spiralist: “Autophagy” – The Quarantine Poems II

When this fragile orb ground to a halt
The lords shrieked in their palaces,
Forsaking the peasantry’s calloused hands.
The mighty elephant cares not for
The collateral stomping of the ants beneath.

Tongues out when rain falls.
All flesh rationed to postpone
The inescapable trembling of limbs and drought of lips.
Bodies devouring themselves until we are
Dangling bone bags for circling vultures.

Bellies rumble in a symphony of woe.
Flies nest in the dried out eyes
Of those who cross the threshold of the living
Onto the realm of Hades,
As Tartarus makes room for their rulers.

The titans watch the plague from afar.
The wretched mortals the gods spawned forth
Scatter around the Earth with their hands on their heads,
Pleading for a merciful end by way
Of Deus Ex Machina, be it life or death.

Entropy has found its way to us.
Atrophy has come to stay.
And bodies consume themselves in the corners,
Where the walls meet, where they belong,
Where they have always been.

Jakub Schikaneder – Dead Girl, 1910