Disjointed Immigration Sonnet

I wonder how the administrators

Who separate fathers from daughters

& mothers from sons, feel about their chores:

Parts of the machine of fam’ly slaughter

How does it feel to somebody else lie

Who doesn’t understand the king’s English

(I’ll bet it’s like being cruelty’s bright spy

Enforcing the decrees of injustice!)

&, coming out of His church on Sunday,

The Baptist bureaucrat just smiles

For He is rendering onto Pilate

The laws of man, in lawyer-ese, by miles

& we who watch these crimes aghast smugly

Know that at their heart, our laws are ugly

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