Hypocrisy
I wonder what small animal had to die
so I could buy this leather belt
for a mere 1,500 forints from the street vendor
near the Lukacs Baths here in Budapest
I wonder how much it had to suffer
before its flesh was served with good wine
in some elegant restaurant and its skin
made into belts and purses
for people like me, too comfortable
in their hypocrisy to resist a good buy
at a bargain price, too remote
from the slaughter and suffering
to do anything about it, too happy
at how good their new belt looks
with the black pants made in China
by underpaid factory workers oh Lord
how uncomfortable it makes us
to look too closely at the way things are
how much easier merely to tighten
the belt another notch, chew slowly
on the veal marsala at the Italian restaurant
right next to the vegetarian one
oh Lord I am afraid I am not a good man,
at least no better than most of my brethren
on this damaged earth, the scent of meat
and leather everywhere and so peaceful
the sleep of those like me, in whose name
they have suffered and died, in whose name
I can say dear God forgive us we knew
what we were doing and did it anyway.