Order
We must now become
Obsessed with order.
Even to “order food”
Is a holy act,
A command of right.
The normal order
Of three mere meals
Parts the day, a
Fence against random.
Chaos,
Boring and unpredictable,
Is enemy of work:
The wet gutter-leaves,
The hairball,
Thick with unguent,
Damming the tub
To warmfoot showers;
Chaos,
The helix tangle
In the cancer blast,
Gene spaghetti
Carbonara—
We will see order!
Let the twisted
Be set straight or curve,
The knot untied,
Looped flat or in a bow,
The broken sword
Held hot and smashed,
Quenched on ice,
Sharpened by concrete
And tried out on a thief—
As God looks down,
Happy and excited.