Poem XIX: Infans piger

I was a slothful infant, desiring only

to eat and play
though sometimes I dreamt up
complicated acts of sabotage
and sometimes conjured up 
savage forms of justice
out of nowhere
which gave rise to a Satanic sense
of injured merit
which I was far too well-fed to enact
and lazy

I am not sure what went wrong there
but it is hard to wake up
from that kind of contentment

it is hard to stop killing snakes in your bed
it's hard to stop slapping lions