Magats

This land still crawls with magats
Gorging on the entrails of a rotten fox
Inching here and there, vomiting poison
As they die from the inside
And the decay sets in.
Dripping venom onto the parched earth
As if to supplicate its desiccation
Then slouching away, too careless to see
That it evaporates so quickly
Under the white-hot sun
Whose increasing fury cannot be denied.

Spineless, brainless, heartless
Operating upon the worst of instinct:
Hate, fear, greed, ignorance; relics of atavism
Evolution has passed them by.
Soon, the wretched creatures will be endangered
A refuge must be found - X marks the spot
Gather them up with begloved hands
(As one might whilst handling waste)
And deposit them in their natural state:
Beneath the bottom
Of the garbage dump
Of history.