For the Weak

Did they come for you?
Tell them, ask them -
Their eyes on you
stuck like knives on your back:

"Et tu, Brute?"

A Caesarian mishap,
Shakespearean and romantic

but deadly.

They are vultures in a Dali painting
clawing, squawking -
a splay of passion,
a tennis match of the filthiest mud.

Silence them.
Tie up their beaks
with your strongest twine:

They prey only on the dead.