The Specters We Circe

here linger the specters    
lining our mangled history    


we try and hack them out!    
the howls are an empty temple    


now mingle the ghosts with the rats    
the Gods do not talk to us anymore    


we try and hack them out!   
of our hands a coy decry     


of a sacrificial decoy, the parakeet has    
flown from boredom, the Gods     


are bored, and stoned, and have     
masked themselves in faces unmoving    


we line our mangled history    
          lingering like specters    
we have hacked ourselves    
we are placated decoys    
and now we sacrifice    
in an empty temple,     
	             mingling,    
silently,    
   the ghosts with the rats