The Blessing

I cry words
of lament and
mourning  and
woe - Thursday's child
has far to go and
the Emperor's new clothes
fit me - my face
mooning  with anxiety as if
I saw all the
things that were to come
and am sore
alarmed - the anointing of
a vision
cracks the earth, the
Lord's hand disturbs the
flow of life and
all the land is blight - these
people of obscure
language and difficult
speech do
not reach me from the
box, their
impiety and dispassionate
observation is an affront,
emblematic as it is
of the lack of
care a nine-to-five
brings to all folks here.
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