The Famine

when the famine comes and feral orphans
slouch a hoarfrost wasteland
digging for small rancid onions
which they eat uncooked on the spot
or steal from one another shrieks
in what bestial pidgins remain
of the mother languages
huddling distended bellies around
the bonfires they've made
of the books and manuscripts now
as illegible as the civilization
they once illuminated,

you'll be glad you opted
for the kindle
with the extended battery life