by Stuart Kantor

Created on: July 03, 2007

All Lies Taste the Same

In a hundred years
When ashes and dust make our cemetery plots uncommon fertile ground
Will anyone recall our moment of shame?
When crow's feet formed at the corners of your eyes
As you squinted, blocking the sun's blatant attempts at veritas?
Will our fabrication be forgotten?
Or will our scandal be so enhanced such as to add strength to the mortar that makes each brick of our empire?
Is it possible our empire not withstand one infinitely minute speck of soot among the vast winds that have calmed and upturned since David?
Will the worms channeling and tunneling through our flesh find our flavor repulsive, spit us out and burrow to those more pristine?
Or are they objective enough to realize that in death,
all sins are equal,
in decay,
all lies taste the same?

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