“What is truth?”
Pilate might have added, “Where?”
Can ministers of the
crown really be
Our custodians of
veracity?
Some welling spring
of crystal wisdom is there
From which they sup, conferring
clear insight
So that some sagacious
course could be steered?
May be it’s hubris!
When something’s appeared
That is challenging
humans’ presumed might,
A scrap of DNA from
the marches
At the bounds of
life, maybe vanity
Should falter. Denizens
of the city
Hold themselves
hostage; if the cough reaches
Their door, it will
be the doctor, the nurse
Who must know enough
to assuage the curse.
Dave Alton
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