scrabbling for a quick shot
at what is left of a crippled target
which appears to be rising
full to the face of it all

shouting at the lies
and laughing at the failure
of words without meaning 
driven into the muck

of failing stables collapsing 
beneath timbers whose 
great beams no longer bind
the weight of justice

or reason to anything 
but decay and the quicklime 
of the nearly impossible able to begin 
to see the horror of the emerging truth

driving finally the bankrupt 
mythologies of murderous
monsters into the final pits
of flames and savage vengeance.