T.R. HUMMER

Urn Burial

The mind of a cockroach in the body of a man,
      the body of a cockroach in a man’s brain—
The alchemists understood how unlike things combine:
      Iron Curtain, Iron Age, Iron Horse, Iron Maiden.
So the iron fist descends dispassionately on the frangible skull
      of the one who will shortly lie in a mass grave.
But the bloody-handed one considers himself a slave
      of history, compelled by an insect will
To outlive apocalypse, whether fire, plague, or radiation,
      sending others on before him freed of the body
And its corrupt admixtures—oblivious to his own transformation
      to a lixivial husk in an urn, interred in honey.