Competing countries had us in a bind.
Health activists complained about our glue
that gave our workers foot-death. Some went blind.
It looked like our old glory days were through.
After church one day while gazing at its steeple,
I saw, miraculous, and clothed in white,
a Royale Angel. ‘You’ve still got poor people,’
the angel said. ‘So use them. Rich man’s right.
They work ten-hour shifts. They don’t complain.
Where would they go? They’d starve without the jobs
that you control. They’re too down to feel pain
in ways that count.’ I love these captive yobs.
I call their Christian names at the Walmart store,
and know, when they fall sick, I can get more.

Cf. The New York Times article, As OSHA Emphasizes Safety, Long-Term Health Risks Fester