Sunday, December 12, 2010

poked with a stick

four and a half centuries
since last a poking with a stick
all the windows broken back then

paint covers the car
the police flee the scene

their faces frozen in horror
all over the papers
no one talks of anything else

everyone slowly grasps
the vulnerable human that lowers its window
waving like it is somehow still safe
morning coming up through the smoke

scenes of feral children eating rancid offal
in the tricoteuse trees

no one feels anything at all until later

oh everyone's god, this moment

.

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