Relaxation

The moment that a man relaxes,
Smoothing the furrows round his eyes,
A hungry host of rates and taxes
Lights on his shoulders with hoarse cries.

The grisly specter of inflation
Beats at his head with loathsome wings;
The voices of A Certain Nation
Bellow uncomplimentary things.

Systems and creeds and dread diseases
Wrinkle his nose with fresh disgust,
And from reverberating breezes
Trickles the radioactive dust.

Better grip what we lay a hand on,
Stuff a stiff ramrod up our backs.
Someone will steal the ground we stand on,
If for a moment we relax.