Wednesday, June 29, 2011

Year of the Rabbit

Fortunetellers are smiling in the teahouses,
their cards, leaves, bones bustling,

as predictions and traditions call for
arms reduction, a diplomatic solution,

the gentle and peaceful; a good year
for all.  In the Middle East, grounds

rumble, and skies screech, people
of the ancient sands, seething.  Here,

at the temple market, animal cages,
stacked, a cloud of flies, shit dripping.

A young girl skips by in her finest dress,
holding her father’s hand.  In another hand,

a perforated box with her new rabbit,
an auspicious token.  I go home to brew

a pot of coffee, turn on the news, watch bombs
rain down, and wait for the end of the world.

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