Spring 1984 • Vol. VI No. 2 A Gathering of PoemsApril 1, 1984 |


Men and women with chalk marks on their backs. Let's suppose he was hurt and she was upset. They got over it. The day bore a semblance to what they hoped. Then came History. He was arrested and shot. Do they speak in hexameters as he's dragged away looking over his shoulder? Some words for that park statue with pigeons on? More likely she wipes her nose with a sleeve, Asks for a stiff drink and another cigarette. Then, the children died of hunger, one by one. There are too many such cases for anyone to be underlining with a red pencil. Plus, the propensity of widows to flaunt their widowhood: Coarse, much-shaved pubic hairs, savagely wrung breasts. History loves old fashioned slaughterhouses, she whispers. Death makes Art, he shouts naked. How pretty are the coffins and instruments of torture In the Museum on the day of free admission to the public!

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