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.
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