Unraveling

A ball of twine, good-quality, suitable

for fine knitting, unraveling down a slight slope,

a steeper one

End-times perhaps, and perhaps only

the ukases issued with numbing regularity

and arrogant familiarity from multi-hued

ignorance

a city of bald hearts and grasping nails

the sainted man, still living, followed

into the desert, hard dry place of sand

and rock, things that scurry, seeking shade

if it can be found, or a cave

refugees from a terror of tolerance

tearing at the twine, slicing threaded sinews

tuxedos and designer gowns

encircling the burlap with its upside-down

and yellow crucifix, brittle laughter

or ridicule, either would suffice

for the purpose

Photograph by Lynn Grayling via Public Domain Pictures. Used with permission.