that the futile, over time,
becomes the natural—
that barbarism,
give or take a few
millennia, grows canonical.
Temples burn
and cave paintings fade,
but
something harsh
and unusual
remains in their material—
some residue in the ash
of our past inhumanity
yearns to be discovered.
And when, at last,
that savagery's
unearthed,
lifted
and placed under glass
on display,
we pay
in cash, and we form
a neat queue
to view for ourselves
how little
has changed.
