Red Sea

I’m terrified of a number of fates, Poisoned water under a tyrant’s wage, Being fired for doing nothing, my parents dying, Committing a thought like this to the page, The splash of acid to the face The Queens non-profit boss received Leaving work one blue August evening. Hell’s So eloquent and poetry’s no fate at all Unless you count the story of the divided sea Waiting to wash its assassins away. Says the Pharaoh, “That’s so sad.” But that story is less fate than news, whereas That Queens boss? Permanently burned, the Times Says one eye won’t stop weeping.