Butler

Very well, sir. I shall come right out with it. Have you forgotten what happened to Jason?
- Alfred, The Dark Knight Returns

Ah, Master
Bruce, your father
would be so disappointed
to see me
hunched over you
stitching,
sewing splinters
back together, your bruised
biceps beneath
a faded bat silhouette.

If I may be frank, sir:
you’re a stubborn ragdoll.
Bursting. Pushing sixty,
a somnambulistic madman.
Please reevaluate and see
the daylight for once.
Aid can be administered
in ways other than your fists
and gimmicky gadgetry.

I’m afraid
that we’ve gone blind,
stuck in the black
of the cave too long, sir,
unable to sense anything
but that spotlight’s
call to action.
Don’t you mourn
our children? The inherited
sons and daughters
we dressed in domino
masks and crimson breastplates,
those small soldiers enlisted
in our private war waged
across rooftops
and alley ways.

Some days
I hang in the door frame
casting hungry shadows
into our cavern, searching
for something warm,
human,
youthful to emerge.

After all, sir,
I can only
dust off
that recycled uniform
so many times.