Reading the Headlines

I have a burial ground in me where I place the bodies
without fuss or emotion, hundreds of thousands
at a glance. I stow them in and as it happens
I am eating dinner: I continue to eat,
feeding myself and the dead.
I walk around in this burial ground,
examining it with curiosity, find it dark
but stroll with a sense of safety, my own place.
I want to lie down in it, dissatisfied, true,
but seeing no exit, I lie down to rest and dream.
I am lost anyway, without horizon or recognizable
features. It’s just to walk on. At least
it’s not necessary to kill myself. I’ll die
of attrition of my energy to live.
I know my direction and have companions, after all.