Thick worms of the army washrooms
gigantic rats from the septic tanks
they search the sacks for bread all night long
they step over faces,
the eaten face of a cat.
The day roosts on the mountain like a raven
the night falls when the soldiers masturbate
the night patrols and the tail movements.
Under the moonlight
two were going at each other
behind the washrooms.
One of them had a wife and children
and one called Skarvellas put his rotten face
in my sleep to see whether I was singing.