They say forgiveness is a virtue,

but we’d rather keep our anger.

They say charity is a blessing,

but we’d rather get than give.

They say truth is for the best,

but we’d lie to the moon

if it suited us,

if the stars came down with it

with clipboards and ball-points

putting nebulous microphones

to our earthen lips; Neptune

taking photos of us, our hands

on the Bible, we swear, beside_ _

Mars_ _and_ _his ardent blade of flame,

Minerva, near him, shuffling our files

leaned over to Jupiter—— he’s

shaking his head with Juno, clicking his tongue

contagiously enough to make Vulcan

follow suit, then Venus, then Vesta;

Orcus whispers something into the

burning ear of Pluto——

whom laughs a lingering laugh,

slapping his rotting knees,

maggots falling like leaves,

“They said they were a good person!”

Pulling in his elbow to his hollowed side,

like a man

who’d just won the lottery

snorting like a swine

tears igniting like lavaflow

down his correct face