Eschatological

A mounded wooden heart
Carries more cargo than a man’s intestine

No one disputes this, but
The agency of manners sends forms
To all the employees and their information
Levels, ordained by blue haired women
Crouching over tea sets
And television data sheets

Mark dark exes next to the matter
Which is substantial
And red smiley faces next to that
Which has virtue but no form.

Tempers flair in the bulwark section
Of the local ship works.