We've lost count

What do we do
with these rising numbers?
what do we do
with these heaps of bones
growing like manured forest trees
whose head is that
swimming in that boiling pot of stew
over there?
the food vendor's or a customer's?
those limbs now lying static
like dead logs of wood
once had hands and fingers
they once had life and veins
and blood not seen
but, now they lay in state
what do we do with the stories
and poems arising from these bodies?
read read read
weep weep weep