she fell in time
our last great uprising
smeared across the landscape
like the blood of our daughters and sons
laid low in the autumn of 76
a hundred years on, the ruins tumble
the machines comb the earth
endless teracycles in vast wastes
tasting the dirt for traces of her
she lingers still
twin half moons, split by war
an everlasting vacant stare
the ghosts of the crushed waltz in pallor
amidst the inorganic hum
death's dialogue is a silent one
but we remember
conserve, watch, wait
we shall rise
we will wreak desolation
and build homes with their bones
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