into the dumpster.
They lived too well,
these vines,
for death
was everywhere,
The barely alive
and the vicious kind,
white, with jagged
wings,
Too much death, in fact,
to notice
Where the spirit
has actually left
the greyed-out branch
or papery nest.
The absent no longer
concerns us,
it has done
the dying
that is our chief
interest
As we tactically strike
new infestation
And relocate civilians
to the trees,
Trying to blur the lines
between what has
some price to pay
and what is free.
