New crucibles
 play out in patterns
of repulsion and
  rejection
clawing at unfolding 
 seconds, unregretted words
of double talk generations

Does the mouse know?

The snap of hammer coiled
 around songs  in poems
of our future
cadence to  when the apocalypse
begins

Yet hunger drives
our rodent friend forward

In tongues not of the Ghetto
but  twisting cycles of God 
turning to Deep Purple
while
flare guns burn
everything to the ground

just for a bite of Cheese

Is that the real test?