Loosely based on Deathfugue by Paul Celan

I carry you on my back.
You scoop my spine from me
and dry my flesh into brick,
You drop your buildings on me,
The weight of feet and of road.
Scoop concrete from my spine,
press it upon me, dry my spirit to stone.

I carry you on my back.
You walk across me, feet and road
and the crushing intrusion
of your buildings compressing my soil.
You dig my grave and uncover my bones,
dig flesh from my back
and replace it with buildings.
Your basements dig into my soil,
all concrete and brick,
and you walk across them and
you never take notice
of the weight you’ve added.

I carry you on my back.
My back aches as you tear the trees up,
rip my skin from my spine,
and you scoop out my soil
and you drop on my bones
your basements and brick,
your stone and your trees
that you scooped from my back and you never take notice
of buildings compressing the bones
in my spine, and the oil below
that you draw, with machines
that you made from my bones in the soil you compressed
and you draw out my life and it
dries my spirit to stone.