The Good Guys are building concentration camps in Rafah

and massacring civilians trying to obtain food.

The Good Guys are circling the planet with hundreds of military bases

and telling us we're not allowed to oppose genocide.

Yesterday I saw a little girl playing

and I thought how nice it is that she has all her limbs

and that she is not lying still

covered in gray dust

while her father screams and cries

and calls out to God

while trying to kiss her back to life.

The world is changed now.

The moon is covered with powdered buildings.

The pigeons are weeping

and the wind sounds like drones.

Sometimes I cough and gray dust comes out.

Sometimes it's a child's shoe.

There's a dead donkey lying in my backyard

that nobody wants to talk about.

The Australians chat about real estate investments

and how you can knock down one house

and replace it with two houses

and then make believe that neither house

smells like corpses.

The news man tells us the corporations

are just dumping the products directly into the Pacific now

while clinging tightly to the edge of the screen

so the black hole doesn't pull him in.

Everything's fine, the news man yells,

and the system is working perfectly.

We are the Good Guys after all.

We are, after all, the Good Guys.

Reading by Tim Foley.