Your Clear Conscience is Precarious

Your conscience is clear
you have no regrets
because you think
you do not know anyone among those in heaven
until comes the day
and then you will want to tear your eyes out

When the dawn feeds the scorched earth
when food is hard to find
and the shoulders of your enemies become a harvest
you shall not think less of your friends
who feast on the birds of the sky
and set traps for angels, only to be disrupted by tiny dinosaurs

Tonight you have your own
that which you think you have hard won
that which was given to you as an endowment
for Saturday night creatures and their Monday morning preachers
spending their days under the wounds of another government
taxed for breathing the same air as us, for being in eyesight, somewhere