The one percent

Tallest clouds, closer to god

And the music of the spheres

Bask in its height

In its ingenuity

In its inheritance,

Filled with the qualities

Toward which lower forms need aspire:

Language, politesse,

Work Ethic

And the most appreciable quality of any,

Money,

Which is the point

Of what we are always, all ways about —

How much remains,

Floating,

Like penthouse cream

Above the milk of common habitation

And, once theft surrenders to history,

Valuation of the ninety-nine in the eyes of

One god,

Angry,

Vituperative,

Vengeful,

Ready to condemn,

Stoking Hell’s righteous fires

Against the chill of wrong belief

And the threat of low return on investment.