The peasants who raise crops, the men who pull
great blocks of stone down ramps, the tavern whore
all these have their small lives, but they want more.
To have eternity. Great Amun’s bull,
the god Osiris, Isis who is blessed,
these are their gods as well. The haughty rich
may ride them down, shove them into a ditch.
But will not get to keep eternal rest
from them. When poor folk die, they wait and go
in crowds through the dark kingdom’s silent way
so many they scare lions and snakes away
without the spells that wealthy people know
and fill Anubis’ hall. He nods them through.
Poor hearts weigh less than evil rich folks’ do.