I used to be the nightshift maintenance man
and surrogate mother at the orphanage.
The Three-Day War changed all that.
Now I’m in charge.

Every week I sit in the Administrator’s chair
and write myself a million dollar paycheck.
The kids are great – we’re all we have.

Billy died last night of the plague.
We threw him down the well with the others.
Cremations attract the fierce feral dogs;
we learn everything the hard way.
*
*
Go to sleep now little children;
in the middle of the room as you were taught,
and I will watch over you.

The hungry rats will not bite tonight
and when morning comes, we
will eat them as they do us.

Dream of how life used to be;
your loving parents now long-dead
when you first came to us,
and learned of suffering.

Do not dream on tomorrow my clever charges.
Quietly inherit the promised gift:
this dying world made just for you.

Go to sleep now to the lullaby of
rat music in the walls.
*
*
Everybody has to work somewhere...