(for those who work and stay in the ragged Mississippis of the world)
In this place of helmets and tar
the anxious burblings of recreants
buzz over us
we bent laughing to oars of gold
We regard them as Antigone her living kin
Fat chested pigeons
resplendent of prodigious riches
reaped in body weight
taking bewildered pecks
at eagles
as though muck
were God.