Poetry / How It Works
He hastened someone’s final breath;
he made somebody dead.
And so, his wages must be Death.
That’s how it works, they said.
He has killed, and so we must
do to him as he did.
It is only right and just.
That’s what they told the kid.
But then, the child asked in awe,
if he must die because
he took a life, and you must do
unto him as he does,
then who must do it unto you?
and who must end your days?
And who must deal with all of you
according to your ways?
We can answer that, they said,
all self-assured and smirking.
The way it works is when it gets
to us,
it just stops working.
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