Once was Evil Enough
The ancient tragedies of Athens played
Upon that stage just once and then were rolled
Around themselves in paper. They had made
Impressions strong enough and so were scrolled
Up, waiting … silently … for who knows what?
For paper made from sheepskin, not just reeds?
For rusting on the shelves of scholars hot
For knowledge? Or for dusty, greedy needs
Of ego wishing awe from others who
Could not collect such wealth? Whatever cause
Created and preserved it, it was too
Pathetic, showing only petty flaws
In hoarders, flaws not bloody, vile and vast
As in the passions from that one-time cast.