The health of all creatures is never a given,
the grimace today at a pinch in the groin
may in several months grow into cancer,
out in my backyard a plastic garbage can lid
is filled with last week’s rainwater, I watch a
small miracle of life as skinny pink worms
emerge into this world and then swim twist
and slither in silence elastic,
and in
swivels in ergonomic chairs paid for by us the
too patient populace, these quite well insured
in their eight hundred dollar suits twist the truth
and ignore the needs of millions of people as
they squirm and lie like vermin in a garbage
heap of gavels, snake behind shut oaken doors
to deliver the news (that’s not new at all) that
we must fend for ourselves like the earthworms
out back
in this life and death matter of sickness and health,
their unfeeling edict stridently shouts, drowns out
other voices of compassion and reason so money
alone may give each fragile person the true sacred
choice for life’s sweet water of health when
illness and pain knock on our doors as surely they
shall like flesh colored worms in tepid rainwater.
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