Auntie History has a hangnail
She’s been scrubbing dirty laundry
Since her time at Ur
Back then
Her job was to wash out
Primeval darkness
Easy enough
What with Christ’s fish
In her pocket
A magic flashlight
Of sorts that fish—just aim it
And bloodstained rags
Would glow white
She has a hangnail
Everything good is costly
You want a personality?
Its so expensive
A soul?
Just acrobatics really
And having washed
The shirts
While half swept away
In the blind flux
Of all the world’s
Horrifying events
She has a hangnail
Planet of the Blind 