Caper's Poets

The Great Achoo — Lee Transue

A great achoo! and all was made from pollen stuck in marmalade
the great swirling arms, the radio waves, a smear of peeling oil paint
as if innocence comes with an expiration date.
Sweep, sweep, the wind through the tall grasses, just the echoes
echoes of that great achoo! and we are all made of the same things
the same wind that sweeps, sweeps into a bayou
and it will swell and consume and turn the world to a swamp
where the mud-suck, slop, slop fills our lungs like a pawn shop.
That big, brilliant burst that brought billions of years of beauty
and it brought bodies in the water down in the Big Easy
and it brought the towns crumbling down in blue-beige Persia
and it brought the floods, the dust, the little balancing cancers
the waves over the low villages, Richter dances in China, and the airplanes
and of course it brought faith, which brought it all down.
A great achoo! sounded and then there was love which refused to move
against the great golden shoulder of a statue, plagued with the pocks of
sledgehammer attempts to bring it down, down, down.


Filed under: Issue 2, Lee Transue

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