Relative Deceit

Uncle Con, what leaded your text?
How did conceit
build your ships?

Your sails were
up and to the right.
Your marketing language
gave no one light.

Your dear readers
collected and moaned
as poisonous metals
descended their homes.

Books on a shelf
fruit for the mind,
so you said
and so it was
for a time

until a built up
quill cup
inked stained
across the visible dictum.

Blood is water
with an extra step
and you drank your share
while our thirsty wept.