THE TEN STAGES OF GENOCIDE

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I wish we lived in a world where politicians weren’t bought and money grew on trees.

Money is all they care about,

so in this world they could collect as much as they want. 

They can hoard trees.

Trees grow on land. 

Their roots run deep. 

That won’t work my grandmother said.

They’d harvest their leaves prematurely. 

The poor trees would spend their lives, hundreds of years, in prison. 

They’d divvy them up into waste of time trees,

deciduous trees, evil trees, olive trees.

When the human that owned them died they still wouldn’t be free.

The next in line would inherit them and suck sap out of them continuously.

They’d starve us of oxygen, grandma said again and again. 

I can’t breathe.