The Dream and Lie
By Kathy Gilbert (San Francisco State University, USA)
Too big to fail the flag is ripped and hanging by a thread. TV shouts about pharmaceuticals and urinary incontinence in the continent and discontent of all the plastic neck bracelets strangling the doves into compliance as long as we are safe I don’t care is the refrain replacing don’t tread on me- a snake poised no longer- uncoiled flat a skin of shoes maybe a purse briefcase lawyers tote sitting in the middle seat of the plane-no leg room no water emergency exit printed in red beneath the green- torture the other- what is all this hate about? Curdled milk anger and curses mixtu paella of saffroned robed rice and chanting monks in black sack cowl or cower sit in hard straight back chairs. The sun rains cold now wet fog bunnies scamper across the horizon like dust on the floor: the whore with one eye I am- the one eyed rule in the land of the blind- sad dreams of gray static cross the visual field squeeze the rainbow over the edge of imperceptibility no color just drab day is night is day and the coarse are of course saying terrible doing worse oh it’s just a show and dirt sticks to the floor like gum in your hair. wake up. sleep is not that no it’s not. Brunhilda is lying on a rock surrounded by fire shrieking a lament of love lost. No. It’s not a thumb ready to push you down and pin you to the ground where there is no floor above zero and minus one.
Tauromachy. Fathered the calf stabbed in the neck by predator picadors in the arena full mouths of blood drone and bore predator- bombing freedom into the dark ages boring predictable kernels of corn into ammonia smells and urine streams inside the thighs of a dream The old green French woman harbors fertile fields grains of lamp light a homeless path to tempests tossed love of this third of death where they have plunged the sharp sticks into the shoulders of the bull for sport and wait for their Torquemada to fire point blank into an Arabic head . Blood sport. Ready to refuse? Recycle reuse and refuse.
War wore on wearing bloodied skins of rabid lepers hyenas and white opossums clawing childrens’ innards out cluster bombing like they were rat nests because ….why? War wore the emperors new clothes in the new millennium where nothing new regarding this killing just how its done now wearing a cummerbund and sweet cinnamon bun doesn’t have to go into the baking oven at 120 degrees Afghanistan just send the mercenaries the fodder that can be ground up in the augur of hell limbs and skulls blown off or crushed expendable expandable how many fronts? Now there’s afri-con to control sub-Sahara just add that to the slew of slaying they’ll be ready to subdue any who rue the day they thought freedom was its way not crushing tanks thanks to whom do you posit accountability.
Owl carries mouse dripping blood stains the field next to the pen where the castrated calves scream and a woman goes crazy in the bushes.
Kathy Gilbert, a graduate student in the MFA program at San Francisco State University, drove a SF Municipal bus for three years after graduating from Cornell University. Her interests include language, history, and political science. Twice first place winner in the SF Browning Society Monologue contest, she resides in the fog belt of Daly City, California with her son, Eli. To relax, she swims.