Gluing History

You can’t find anyone honest
By holding a lamp to daylight,

And a little mythology
Never rehabilitated

A liar. The worst crimes are yours.
If everyone confessed their own

To everyone and selected
Mutually agreed punishments—

We know that would never happen.
You can cut and paste convictions,

Glue little bits of history
To each other until you all

Look like broken statuary
Reassembled by small children,

And that’s fine. Small children you were
And small children you shall remain,

With fingers crossed for pinky swears
And weapons readied for gouging.

What would you do to one of you
Who confined all accusations

To self-accusation, whose acts
Were worth condemnation? For shame.