Miracles

The newswaves are clogged with mealy-mouthers,
Ungrammatical flapjaws and dim-witted dolts
Who pule and drool their nitpretty cant,
With a miracle here and a miracle there . . .
Ignoramuses on parade!
Sidesteppers of plummeting baby grands
And cats who are spared eight lives out of nine
Are lucky sons of guns, to be sure,
But hardly selectees of preference.
No cosmic kiss, no merciful twitch
Of fate intervened on their behalf;
Those facing death may jiggle their dice,
But cheating is never—no, never!—allowed.
One person survives while the rest lose all;
'Taint no miracle, folks! It's a simple procedure:
You either recover or you fall,
And praising gods or damning devils
Won't leverage Chance—it is absolute,
And cares not a whit for prayer or curse.

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Miracles