Easter

World ain’t in the cross-making business

world don’t manufacture no redemption

or resurrection because

world don’t care about your beefsteaks

or your long-legged women

thin-hipped, tight-lipped

world don’t care you can’t kiss

no hundred dollar w***e;

World don’t care about your grain,

your load, where the deer sleep

because the world isn’t the one

who’s worried about how to eat,

this world will never, ever weep;

World don’t care, world’s just cold

machinery that churn and turns

cyclical in its rebirth

while the sky wheels impassively overhead

world don’t drink no whiskey or wine,

world ain’t about to get high;

World don’t get into the resurrection business

world don’t care about redemption or health

world don’t make you no crucifix so

the one you got slung half across

your shoulder, boy, weight on your back

that crosshatch of lumber

you manufactured that s**t

for yourself.