Plague Songs - They Second Cummings / by Rich Hobbs

The Centre fell apart an age ago.
They poison falcons now
Protecting grouse chicks
To be killed by corporate clients at           weekends.
The loot is laundered through the flood planes 
And the floodwater gets browner every year.
They boast of their intense insensitivity.
Worse, there’s no earthly chance there’ll be convictions.

And the rough beast crèche is full to overflowing 
With more arriving as each hour comes round
Til now there’s hardly room enough 
To slouch.