The sunshine does not work to end disease
Among the folk who say to illness “Please
Infect me with you; help me thus to cease
To be a part of life, to join the ranks
Of those whose life is held in pressured tanks
Purchased, set up, used with little thanks
To those who still must smile despite abuse.
Put us thus to Stupid God’s misuse.”
Let those who from such orisons recuse
Themselves be free of their effects, I pray,
And be not scalded by the too-bright day
That seems to plague those who, not far away,
Are bound by those named to devotions foul,
Spared the torment of the bright-eye’s scowl.

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