Witchcraft of the Civilized

There is a place where a diviner lives It’s a place of shouting, invoking spirits A diviner plays tricks on the young Dealing in business of words and tricks All are like witchcraft at work It’s a place of witchcraft of the civilized brain buttered, stomach given bread, ears edited feet groomed, the soul cooked ready reshapes the mouth, tongue trimmed All are like witchcraft at work Yes. Shrine gives new umbilical string it is a labor ward for the heart as it gives birth to new chambers to love not human beings but things unseen All are like witchcraft at work Shrine is a granary of mixed ideas What we breathe in and out are stored It teaches how to quarrel together happily And how to laugh together angrily With how to use pen magically to tell lies Take a child innocent with ignorance to shrine He comes out righteous or wasted or spoiled Head is hungry, stomach greedy, culture cross-bred Tongue twisted, engraved with mysteries And you are proud your child went to school