Saturday, March 6, 2010

Also, you should not look one in the mouth.

Gift Horses

He lives in the barrens, in dying neighborhoods   
and negligible countries. None with an address.   
But still the Devil finds him. Kills the wife   
or spoils the marriage. Publishes each place   
and makes it popular, makes it better, makes it   
unusable. Brings news of friends, all defeated,   
most sick or sad without reasons. Shows him   
photographs of the beautiful women in old movies   
whose luminous faces sixteen feet tall looked out   
at the boy in the dark where he grew his heart.   
Brings pictures of what they look like now.
Says how lively they are, and brave despite their age.   
Taking away everything. For the Devil is commissioned   
to harm, to keelhaul us with loss, with knowledge   
of how all things splendid are disfigured by small   
and small. Yet he allows us to eat roast goat   
on the mountain above Parakia. Lets us stumble   
for the first time, unprepared, onto the buildings   
of Palladio in moonlight. Maybe because he is not   
good at his job. I believe he loves us against   
his will. Because of the women and how the men   
struggle to hear inside them. Because we construe   
something important from trees and locomotives,
smell weeds on a hot July afternoon and are augmented.

No comments: