Alameda Central, Mexico City
A garbage man is shambling down the tiles.
His garbage— in the thousands— purple flowers
shed by trees with loveliness to spare.
Once fragrant in the arid Aztec air,
their flagrant waste drifts down in purple showers
gathered now in buckets, bags, and piles,
to feed the dark wet mouths of city gutters.
Not far, a jaguar-dappled butterfly
around a hanging carcass feeds and flutters.
The ancient gods of war will never die.