Wednesday, January 4, 2012
Is it a living or a dying rock?
The girl with ponytail and frock,
Kneeling without shoe or sock,
Beseeches the insensate block.
Men working beyond the clock,
They don't pause to take stock
Of the closed universe they unlock,
Don't hear the crowing of the cock.
They lift each stone, sleepwalk
Toward those with chalk and caulk,
Like able, obedient livestock.
Work isn't something they mock.
Damnation will come as a shock.