Ode to the Worms Crawling Through the Skull of the Last Capitalist, Rotting Beneath the Earth

(I first wrote this poem in 2019. Presented here without further comment.)

A thousand years of terror
Pass through your belly,
Restored at last to soil.
Where you go a tree shall grow
And for centuries signify
The settler's final defeat.

The air is clean, the water fresh,
And all the factories rebuilt.
Children laugh at mottled puppets,
Myths of kings and presidents,
Whose warnings they will never
Need to understand.

I thank the skies for you
Who transform this final villain.
Against all their petty wishes
And all their vicious efforts,
You return them to the cycle
They spent their life rejecting.

I lay my tears before you
Like an offering to eternity.
May the salt of my anguish
Impart a fraction of my thanks,
My relief, and my hope:
That this evil shall stay buried.