“For the Kings Bay Ploughshares 7”

In a temple somewhere
In a normal house
In a church whose doors
Are open so God
Can escape
The mice stay put
Nibbling at the wireless
Disconnect between cells
In which sit prisoners
Of unconsciousness

Texting nothings
To no one nowhere
With their latest smart-
Ass little gadgets
Their innocent little fingers
Flying across the buttons
In eager flight
As God sends urgent messages
That few can hear
Lacking service as they do.

While in a fortified bunker
The basement of the White House
Some secret hole
Men born to serve
Lack nothing but the word
“Go”
To press their dirty fingers down
And do the mice
One better.

An announcement will not follow:
“Out of service forever.”

 Author

"Educated in the classics, philosophy, literature, theology, and sociology, I teach sociology at Massachusetts College of Liberal Arts. My writing on varied topics has appeared widely over many years. I write as a public intellectual for the general public, not as a specialist for a narrow readership. I believe a non-committal sociology is an impossibility and therefore see all my work as an effort to enhance human freedom through understanding."—Edward Curtin

Behind the Curtain http://edwardcurtin.com/