Poem #135

DECENCY: An Epistle on the Passing of the Religious Freedom Act
in Indiana, 25 March 2015

What do I know, of love,
in the middle of the fields?
An owl asks in a hoot, “Who?”
I fear I go with women and men.
Merriam-Webster says she knows,
about the color gray.
There are shades of gray
on the southern horizon,
blue-gray, pearl layers with gray
in the background clouds that fan out into the
foreground where I drove.
There is dung flung into feed the fields,
workers working in a factory,
or a work-study working on a graduate degree, maybe.
A social science teacher teaches me
we have enough (enough bureaucracy).
Decency, decency is
when human is humane is
when cruelty will end,
from the egg to now.


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