Oh, sure, you salted cicadas
We, scorpions
We, expect a yield
We harried hornets to hysterics to a blind hate
We poisoned scorpions w their own eggs
This generation raised among pomegranates must die
The madrasa-mutton,
Seared,
Swing,
Sleep,
Spin,
Sit upon skewers, run-through
Hornets bred w scorpion genes,
Raised on scorpion entrails
Hornet father, scorpion mother
Yield thee a mantis of bother.
Guard your daughters
Reef their sails.
We shall wipe your brood from the face of your earth
Your tainted brood, starved by alphabet, stunted by addition,
We shall excrete your brood
Our haunches down
Our knees bowed
Our eyes screwed
Like any colic mule
Cleanse the cherry trees
Their burden dread of squatters
Shunt them retarded cicadas
Back,
Down,
To end their days
With forgotten potatoes,
With sightless centipedes,
With hair-dressers,
With daughters,
Bent on skinnèd knees,
Forced underground like dirty cicadas
Scorpion w cicada all belly-up
Sting the holy site