NOT MUCH OF A JOKE,
AND SCARCELY MORE JOYOUS
A jockey, a brothel owner and a football player
walk into a bar…
—————- ‘We’ve got a problem here, Gai.’
how can I begin to tell you. From which blood-
shed shall I write to you. Tomorrow, over our
country, there will appear a solar eclipse. Lucky
or unlucky, it will unfold above us the darkenings
of our culture. Let us not look away.
In Moscow yesterday, pending determinations
of allegations, two former foes together sued
for another country’s peace. A moment
possibly, to remember. In the primetime-meantime
we watch the fiery orchids of war blossom
across Syria, and suspect chemical death.
How many more countries cities houses
hearts can we break if we try?
Born to bet, I wonder how Tommy W
and his suitcase would fathom that wager.
send me a brightly coloured tee-shirt to
be sick to you from. The time for cruel
odds has not passed.
And so brothers, sisters,
spread your chalk all over the pavement.