The Bank Holiday Poem by Bernard Kennedy

We have made a God of money,
and pitched our prayers in
his regard, a novena of lotto
numbers, as incense,
to turn his head, or
candles,
to catch his eye, or
magazines to whet the wish,
this shoe, that bag, that cream
for eternal youth, the place to live,
a gated monastery of moneyed rule,
an economy of salvation.
all in his gift.

Set aside, lets earth yield best,
lie fallow earth to breathe,
and sunday, lower case now,
to chill,
and the bank holiday,
to do the things most needed,
with better guaranteed return,
to sit with self, a day of rest,
and set aside.