Small animals far away

Small animals far away

Sometimes I thought

the gods play-

they throw human guts,

excrements,

spurt our blood

across the skies

I thought they hide

in clouds

enjoy the torture

make a game

of suffering

Maybe they do.

Or they are not

there at all.

But poets do

and neighbours.

Politicians.

We are small animals

far away

stumbling on a chessboard.

But we can fight

and together

we can tear and bite

and gnaw like rats

at the flesh of gods

and neighbours

and politicians.

We should.