On it our republic will rest a thousand years.
Here it is – I’ve written it out by hand.
We can post it up outside when the weather clears.
Lay to rest your misgivings – it’s all quite well planned.
The only thing left is to have it manned.
The players will build a rectory for the wise.
Women will be beautified, men beatified.
Our accountants will help keep satisfied
the priests and priestesses who will stifle their sighs
and crouch low behind the arras to pull the strings.
I already see it before my eyes –
a curriculum to which posterity clings,
a scripture, a canon to solemnize a creed.
How uncanny a thing it seems, indeed –
embraced despite the wide-spread discomfort it brings.
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