Images from Civilization's Saturday Afternoon Serial

1

Poe drowns in his own vomit on the streets of Baltimore.
Homer dreamt he was the only suitor fucking Penelope.

Look backward to see where it will end; find the long view.
There are words need no tongues. What’s a mouth for?

The character of civilization resides in one mother’s tears:
If her son can’t find work, he can kill for a thousand pesos . . .

2

He wrote well, his life tattered, abandoned from the start.
She had faced down the suitors, why not the blind poet?

Who was the kid with his contract, a way to make a living,
becoming the living dead because you do . . .

I was not there. Manuela Roma was. Reynolds, certainly:
“I was in Lecumberri. ‘I was the man, I suffered, I was there.’”

3

Thirty-three years. No second crucifixion necessary.
A story needs a witness to prove it’s true . . . then continues.

(8 October 2011)

copyright 2011 by Floyce Alexander