This crazy place where gold sits in plain view beside an ideal
And a hungry man steals the ideal
Makes from it a simple piece and wears it proudly in the streets
For everyone to admire.
How hungry must he be to let gold hang from someone else’s neck
To leave it on the field
To let it gild marble walls and lofty altars
And languish in vaults?
How hungry to toss together rickety foundations of refuse
And mounting them, raise a naked fist
To a smiling sky
That showers golden stardust on the sated
And leaves the famished to die?
How hungry must he be, next time walls fall
To leave gold to the rubble
And build something of value
Beneath the smiling sky?
Jason Anderson, 2014