« When Reason Needs Sitting | Main | Week 59 and the Sundance Kid »

May 10, 2006

Enemy Fireworks

Donald Illich

A skull-shaped balloon rises over the village,
its skeleton string trailing close behind it.
The townspeople aren’t sure what they should do:
all the god slots have been filled by sports stars,
magnetic actresses, and the bitter politicians
who hand out the world but are empty inside it.
Shooting at the dirigible with special rockets,
sprinkling blue phantoms of destruction &
pushing the remains one more step toward ghost,
is considered but abandoned as too pricey.
Bombs need to be saved for enemy fireworks,
their dead are not appointed without them.
Meanwhile, the floating head expels cold air
circulating sleet over building and statues,
returning water to the earth to be defeated
by gravity, a mischievous boy digging canyons,
& thirst, sucking everything through a straw.
The bones start falling, scientists are unhappy.
They pronounce the true origins of the species
have nothing to do with childhood spirits,
make believe people release with tooth fairies,
magic bodies stored in the toy chest, let go.
Nonetheless, villagers feel objects above them.
Pins, no matter how sharp, can’t pop their skins.

Posted by Rock Heals at May 10, 2006 12:00 AM