screaming into the chasm

hail caesar! we scream
from the land of the dead,
mocking the lives of
the saturnarian bred.

naturally we probe
with the bones of our
fingers like the dusty ashes
of maurovian whispers.

or, now, metonyms of hope
in the thoughts of a hamper,
a washer, a dryer, and
and a bushy-tailed scamper.

hail caesar! we whimper
from the land of the dead,
died of a seizure from
those things that we said.

mucus?