Last Rites - Cop26 Iii

The sideburns of the Maples Turned another color in early October I look in my Roman bathroom mirror Person reflected is a stranger to me The green children No more than sprouts finding their blossoms Are impossibly older than me More ancient than the planet’s lore Poor last good kids Hunched over and limping Faithfully lacing duty to their boots Strapping chores across their shoulders They walk the cobblestone Earth Knowing the truth As a crown of thorns upon their heads Anxiously crying Father Do not forgive them For they knew Exactly what they were doing.