Malice is in higher offices.
Perhaps they will use correctly deceitful language.
“I was faithfully performing the job entrusted to me.”
There, I say, you have your god. They might live
and gnash forever.
Concrete Mary is near me. She lost
before I pulled her from the trash.
It used to be St Francis stood next to her,
two cripples, it would seem,
She, without body beyond her wrists,
And he in a termite hollowed tunic, chipped bird on his hand.
I brought him inside to have a word
With the oven mice. Now he lives behind the broom.
There is a lady
Who dies weeping
Sores on her legs
She wills them to move
Centimeter by centimeter.
She is only 96.
These are three things I think about.
And a fourth that matters most:
My children, Your children, The children.
We will destroy their futures
Or they will save us.