and by the way, the
super bowl
was in atlanta
this year
steel sap and sinew
swallowed by an aperture
embedded in a plated nest
can temperature fill to full
and feel a sigh
more still
the bread is cheap
and the circus thrills
over arch and chasm
twenty one centuries
call up the doctors
and motion them to a small likeness
[a charred child, though no marks remain
Only a faint smile
yet she still lies alive]
intravenous fluids
interpolate
then the story fills out its base
and becomes
as she speaks
regarding the remnants
of epithets
on the nightstand
young doves are over the sea
waters drown the world
and submerge history
toes curl the cliff
next swim
“aqua vitae” she says to herself
<iridescent qualifying statements>
now a term is filtered
mentioned in last week’s
issue of the news and world report
“golan heights is the sovereign right [of israel not of palestine]”
A man near that region was once crucified
in mutilated public display,
he wept for a man conceived two thousand years in time after
hiding at the far side of the circular arena in atlanta,
a foreign land
searching for
his inheritance
weeds seep over and lean on
the edge of a church steeple
once was a temple
now where are the worshippers?
in the steel brazen boxes
fashioned in the forms of
greek ruins
so-called entertainment swirls
while a hustler pawns off
the youngest of his girls
to a dissatisfied
spectator
who’s sport
is to suck,
to spit
an image
and delay
d e c a y
if only for a precious minute
heaven sown
with untouchables’ cloaks
while calls for mercy beckon
To a husband far from home
