To Shrug and Walk Out of the Room

Parts of the mind scold parts of the mind.
There are lots of parts and minds to scold.
Wrong, so wrong, those parts that try to guess

How sweet or hard the lives of some parts
Fare, next to how sweet or hard their own,
Or how much risk they add with each act,

Or how soon the war they want will come,
How well it will go, how all might burn,
How far their own homes are from the fire.

The wise parts of the mind draw lines, fine
Straight lines marked and summed, which count the steps
From a front door to the trees in flames,

Count the deaths and falls from each guessed risk,
Count the ways in which the rich are rich
And the poor more poor than poor parts know.

But it’s all one mind, all the summed minds,
All their parts, all those thoughts, all those skulls.
Mad parts chew the wise. The rest don’t mind.