not a pretty picture. not a good. not a bad. picture. but an argument.

Thursday, May 13, 2021

against darkness

How It Got Dark by Don McKay

When the second stone
was cast, when Gatling
begat his gun, when to know
became to own—animals,
land, ideas, people;
when they piled the skulls
and posed for photographs, when
the fifth stone fell
like a schizophrenic star, like
an Airbus, like an angel
crashing into space-time;
when the red squirrel popped
out of the stew pot and
up a pine tree in a flash, then
paused to boast and scold us in that brash
staccato and I said that's it,
let's get the little bugger and picked
up the first stone.