Thursday, September 25, 2008

Draw Back Your Bow

A jumbo jet
strikes my heart.
Instead of an arrow,
Cupid sent a Boeing.
372 die, and
prairie grasses are charred
for about a month.

Yes, I’m grateful it
wasn’t a hydrogen bomb.
Buick-sized cockroaches
rumbling through
desert endless— recovery
might take more
than a month.

But I wish it
had been an arrow.
I could’ve collapsed
in tall, prairie grasses,
and the bugs
would’ve finished the job
like professionals.

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