An array of little bodies litter the floor
like bodies discarded on a battlefield
you’re essential in this time
so precious
to save us in a life
so fragile
to separate us from
the other
that which would do
us harm
the disease.
You’re all used up
purpose fulfiled
in the name of
a cause.
This is a battlefield
a battle you
didn’t choose
to fight.
But here we are.
Me here standing
You there
many of you
an army of you
laying there
no longer doing good
now doing only harm.
You blow in the wind
you find your way into
storm drains and
green fields
into other ecosystems
an intruder in
a different life cycle.
Where once
you’d have been laid to rest as
hazardous waste.
Caia Rose 