They came and went, the warning signs. The canary was dust, but the mine was running on double time. Pulled down the alarms, tore out the break lines. Gag reflex override. Eyes sewn shut / mouths open wide. Relax the throat and let it slide, cold comforts of patriotic lies. Genuflect for power. They’re lining up to cower. For a seat at the master’s feet, they’ll swallow yesterday’s unthinkable. So was it good? Was it even any good while it lasted? One plague less is not the end of it all, another house of cards born to fall. And what passes for eulogy when they chose to let the lifeline bleed until the last light blinked out and the well ran dry?