From Moloch’s Lectionary
Awakening in the middle of the night
I find a message on my phone from you,
An email forwarded, an email blight.
It says that Matthew, flesh and bone from you,
Was not worth making, that the life of him,
Your semen and the DNA which made
Your son were pointless, just a protein whim
That came to nowt and Death’s an ambuscade
Among Despair’s dark trees. The message claims
That passing laws to clear the air of smoke
And getting poems published were both aims
Condemned like faulty acorns from life’s oak.
..Facts have intrinsic value which trite words
….Can never touch. They’re just fine sounding turds.