Unplicitous, Duplicitous, Complicitous

What is it we’re all
Complicit within?
Not this or that sin,

One, two, or a few
Million swished in it,
But the one big sin

Without forgiveness,
Without a witness,
Everyone in it,

The most accomplished
In accomplices,
The sin of knowing

There is such a thing
As sin, such a thing
As an accomplice,

The sin of naming
Who is complicit,
The delicious sin

Of accusation,
Of surrendering
To believing in

Sin so that someone
Else can be witnessed
Complicit in this.

And Why Should You?

The rogues took the goat and ate it,
Since who can trust oneself against
A unanimous opinion?

If everyone says that’s a dog
Or a pig, anything unclean
In your tradition, on your back,

How can you keep questioning them?
How long until you set it down,
And feel unclean, and take a bath?

You’ve no morals not consensus.
You chuckle like everyone does
When you read the parable, when

You find out about the studies,
The innumerable studies
In which the subjects changed their minds

About some self-evident fact
As more and more confederates
Insisted that the fact was false.

You chuckle, but you’re just the same,
Afeared of not being the same.
It’s a kind of dripping torture,

Holding out against consensus.
Who are you to trust yourself.
Don’t answer that. You know you don’t.