Dross
~
What can I tell them that they haven’t heard?
Nothing at all, but never mind that now.
They confessed by the color of a word
but received no gospel, right hand, or plow.
It’s always the same. Claim this, declare that
as if opinions are indivisible,
and they alone see thick from thin, lean from fat—
lean for the priest, fat for the incorruptible—
then plunge hooks regardless into the pot.
With no land to reap, they despise those who sow.
Give them enough, but it’s never a lot,
and we’re back to what I wrote eight lines ago.
Pouring out the silver, they heap up the dross,
pauls without conversion, christs with no cross.
~