You Know That Poem

Fair is the core of rage,
The first flare that jumps out
From you when you sense wrong

Done to you, to someone
You care for, to someone
Innocent. It’s not fair!

Injustice was never
Measured in suffering
But in its unfairness.

Once you sense unfairness,
Once you feel that sharp flame
Jump in you, you don’t want

To hear another word
About how everyone
Hurts and suffers sometimes.

Good puppet-masters know
Which strings to pull for love,
Which tilt will posture trust.

Fair is the string for rage.
Yank hard. Puppets clatter.
Poor puppets. It’s not fair

That fairness is a string
That pulls all the way through
Puppet-masters as well,

Attaching somewhere
In some unseen black hole
In gravity’s own hell.