Rooftop workers
Watched by unseeing eyes
Smoke lazily on ladders
And laugh toothless grins
In the back of empty
Pickup trucks.
They do not know that I am watching
They do not know that I see
As they drag orange cords
Through gardens
Strangling the necks of mother's day flowers
That never did anything to them.
They do not know what they are doing.
They throw old shingles down
Onto old fabric
And quenched grass
As if they never meant a thing.
Newer is better they say these days.
And thunder quakes
And electricity flickers
And black clouds roll in
But they do not move
Must finish the job
Too brave to pause for safety
Probably leaving blood stains on the new roof
That'll never be seen because nobody goes up there
Except for Christmas lights.

I remain inside
Reading you
Half deaf
And I think I'm sick.