As long as your nest is feathered
Who would endure a sacrifice for the starved?
As long as your tongue has applications,
Both large and small,
Who need order the absences
That haunt the open-hearted poor?
As long as your thoughts are heard
Over twinkling silverware and open graves
Who need consult or inspect?
Cut from the titanic forces of nature’s throne,
Management of social justice’s vacant chair,
Who are you to even care?
Fear not what you lack nor ever prepared,
Paid for nor even built,
Sit content with the productive element
As long as loins flush away the guilt.
© ross 2020