Jan/Feb 2017 • Vol. XXXIX No. 1 Poetry |

The Vast Economies

What is the point of money? said the leopards at work on the still quivering gazelle. The gazelle looked at the sky, as if contemplating the afterlife. Then it closed its eye. All its verdant afternoons among the foliage were not even memories anymore. Zero. What is the point of a salary?The camera crew, hiding in the tall grass, recorded the scene. First there was one leopard, then there were two. When the meat stopped shuddering, the leopards left, and three jackals, skulking by the waterhole, ate next. What is the point of currency? Zero point. Then came spotted hyenas, white-backed buzzards, pincered water beetles. The camera crew sat in the tall grass eating sandwiches. They'd had a good day's work, for which they'd be well paid. The leopards circled them hungrily. There are, the leopards said, economies that are greater than those you think you know.A camera remembers everything you tell it to remember, but it has noideas. Now, it watched the g

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What is the point of money? said the leopards at work on the still quivering gazelle. The gazelle looked at the sky, as if contemplating the afterlife. Then it closed […]

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What is the point of money? said the leopards at work on the still quivering gazelle. The gazelle looked at the sky, as if contemplating the afterlife. Then it closed […]

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