The Idea of Progress

The people of the village
Built a church as round as a well
Of bottom-out Coke bottles,
Pouring out greenish light
Into the palms of their burning hands.

They dug a well where the altar would have gone
And never drew water.
Still, they blew gently
Across the bottles’ mouths,
Filling the walls with their breath.

The people of the village wanted
A round church
Made of Coke bottles
Bottoms-out so that the light might pour
Out of a hundred hundred glass mouths,
Sweeter than the sun at evening,
Warmer than a child's blood.