I wake up singing
a song about a cowboy
then it changes to a song
about a fireman and then
a song about a gunslinger
and one about a robber
and all the time the real heroes
are fighting the real villains
elsewhere and they don’t care
what songs there are except
“We Shall Overcome” and
something wordless and keening
over the bodies of the dead —

it doesn’t matter whose bodies
they are, or were, just nameless
hunks of dead angels for God
to shake his head at and say
“Go on,” that is, until no one
is left to cheer or sing.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T