I had a dream a day before the Paris Attacks and now I understand why. I call this: The Roundup

We were corralled like cattle.

Black steel grasshoppers

Held sand-colored scarabs

Suspended by thick cables.

They swarmed the sky,

Washing it in a haze of machinery.

The panic. The scatter.

I look for my way out.

I find every door locked,

every pathway guarded.

I knew what was coming before

any other had time to react.

I knew it was the round up.

I knew they had the trucks.

I knew they had the syringes.

I had been waiting for this,

and still did nothing to warn them.

I should have left when I had the opportunity.

I could have saved

at least myself and my spouse.

My apathy,

Our apathy became our demise.

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