Heavy-Handed Gossip

Each day we’re shown the world
And shown each day what can be done
To it. Someone thought it would be funny
To build a machine out of some of the poisons,
To use it once before throwing it away.
So now there are industries devoted
To that one man’s laughter,
And there’s almost no choice but to behave
In the eyes of its mechanism, even though
It too will be tossed upon the pile.
A world should be an altar to life—and is.
But who knows what becomes of it
When its altar is a lost cause. I mean,
What if there was no wall, and the pair
Simply left, ashamed, began filling their arms
With new ways to return, when all along
They could. Without the aid of science.