After dog days in the grind, not too much comes home
But groans of bodies hurting for repair.
It willnot do to ask us if we care
For wounds of a world, reeking rot of dead leaders.
We voted our advice, knowing only how tired
We sat before each candidate
And liked his smile, his family–
His homage to the current vogue of hate.
It will not do to ask us if we think.
Tomorrow we fall back again to functions
Of great hungers who feed us while they eat
Our caring like inspected, packaged meat.