Dream of me when you sleep on your blanket.
These humans know how to manage city streets
disrupting life with bombs and artillery shells,
splattering cats and children into every corner.
I wait for night, lightless and frozen
when I roam unseen among the corpses
looking for a body to curl up to for comfort.
But the dead lie speechless without a purr
waiting for dawn to be found in a litter box
for burial before ruthless armies bury Bakhmut
with fire power droning through the sky
with a lie that makes language obsolete.
