Psalm seven point one five

Blessed be the unexceptional

anointed by the white collar,

and blessed the ritual of the black

machine: Let there be espresso,

and espresso there was.

 

Blessed be the man who offers me

an aspirin when the department

manager reviews brand standards,

blessed the stars that made me

elect to keep these unancestral folders,

and the symmetry in our Mondays

that blur into our other Mondays.

 

Blessed be you, dossier seven

point one five, yours is immortality:

your numbers will outlive me, they

will outlast my home and my poetry,

their decimals will not get fat, they

will never get cancer, there will be

no Amy Winehouses among them,

they will not call the Samaritans

at 5 a.m. with a life in shambles,

they cannot be abducted on holiday

nor can they be bombed, ransomed,

dossier seven point one five yours

are the blank soldiers who

already defeated ISIS.

 

And you whose fingers brush

the cover of the hallowed dossier,

and whose youth is now incense

in the wind: you work now in a

call centre for unemployed arch-

angels begging for God's work:

you hold a direct line with the

only heaven I've been shown,

in your blessed name let me

take a vacancy by your side,

I shall be dust and shadow,

let the austere hell of these

streets release me and let

me join your employment

in the miracle of your

indifference: and let

the fight that was

in me be made

redundant

at last.

Amen.