The beggar squats
in judgment,
the parishioners
passing in review
unwitting or only inkled
in groped darkness,
a stirring of the deeps.
Here, in a rusted tin,
weights and measures
clatter or tinkle;
here calculation is computed 
with the same yardstick
as thoughtless largesse
and blind denial are, 
heartless refusal
and refusal with heart,
the dime with the dozen
 — and you move in this queue.

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