Suicide Silos

Out where the durum wheat grows to
Mill into our daily loaves, not far away

From the fields of waving bounty, reside
Metal gods deep in the plains, modern-

Day trolls armed for war. We never see
These secretive metal deities for whom

We tithe our taxes to house in pricey
Subterranean cathedrals radiant with the

Latest high-tech comforts. In return, their
Keepers, our missileteers, vow to keep us

Safe. Alas, these are false gods heralded
By false prophets. They promise only ashes

For us, omnicide, a day of suicide for all.
Dread the hour our silos vomit false gods.

G. Louis Heath, Ph.D., Berkeley, 1969, is Emeritus Professor, Ashford University, Clinton, Iowa. He enjoys reading his poems at open mics. He often hikes along the Mississippi River, stopping to work on a poem he pulls from his back pocket, weather permitting. He has published poems in a wide array of journals. His books include Leaves Of Maple and Long Dark River Casino Read other articles by G. Louis.