Forgive the closets containing the past:
the table’s veneer peeling away; families
whooping while they cook in their kitchen; kids
encrusted before spraying TVs; roses who
refuse to bloom forever; utopias, ideals,
beatitudes; imperfect mothers, liars, drunks,
addicts; the formers and shapers of life; arms
dealers declaring war; chemical companies
processing food; gene-twisters, anatomists,
bunker-builders, prison-planners, masters of this
mystery school. The father, keeping his son in
the palace, pushing the dead, the sick, the elders
aside. For living in this world, not another.
Those who’ve harmed no one, who come when
called, who reach out, who comfort, who pick
up after others, and never complain. Forgive us
all, those who need forgiveness, and those who
are unforgivable.