At Least It Was Evil

Have you not studied the plagues of political death?

At least they were hated

At least they were victims of somebody's whim

There was consolation in it

The loathing of the persecutor as he slams the door

The casual indifference of the switch

There is evil at least in being murdered

If only for the lines on your neck

Instead

We are dying now for curiosity

We are dying for the decent human habit

Of interfering with things

Educate that out of the psyche

You would have to create children who did not

When looking at the caterpillar

Study it's avoidance of the fire

Who looked in the pond and only looked

Who watched without changing

Who knew without altering

Who willing suffered a curable death

We are dying so innocently now

No machine guns

How calm it is outside the laboratories