The Upper - Oxbow

He turns and returns to the room

After having almost never left it

His beasts trailing after him for scraps

As he scratches behind their ears

Indulgently indulgently

And for all those who watch and wonder

Where this church service goes

And wait and wait on the doxology

Only about half will ever know

That the altar is altered in the likeness

Of that which serves itself like itself

Is going out of style

And teeth?

Perfect

And skin?

Like some great shining alabaster monument

To cause

And what it affects

There is no stink of human here

Heavenly host with the most

Just not this

And toying with the toys

You have very little choice

So you hold on tight to yourself

Gripping tight to yourself

Because the warming chills you

When he turns and returns to the room

After having almost never left it

His beasts trailing after him for scraps

As he scratches behind their ears

Indulgently indulgently

And utopia?

Yes

And cornucopia?

Like some six-course spread of cloy

And no one else says no to it

Ever ever says no to it