Alas, Babylon
I can sleep in exile
among my people,
but fitfully.
I can live on crow
and humble pie,
but not thrive.
I know my rights
and have waived them.
I have pled guilty.
And I reject all appeals
except for clemency.
And now I walk my time,
and toe the line
to make straight the paths
of forgiveness
in a land where
my breaths are sighs,
and my once proud gait
is a listless shuffle.
With the priest,
the bartender,
my only friends.