Them

We strike
Terror
Into their hearts --
But what is the heart
Except a cold city
Or their splotched birds
Perched
On granite?

We can destroy that city,
But what does the city fear
Except that continuity of cold
Which the blinking sun
Portends?

And they call us cowards.

But we know that the city is cold,
And that the houses
Leak,
And it gets dark.