Poetry Saturday: Bru Tal Ity

June 12, 2010

And when the sun had beaten down long
Enough, burning every last bit of humanity
Out of his melting head, every bit of everything but
Roasting agony, waves of heat curling off
Distorting the air around him like ripples in a pond,
Marking the life and hope streaming out of him
In silvery capitulation of the equatorial steam,
That was when the rest of us knew we had
Done enough, done our jobs in tearing him down as
Directed by the intuitive power of our genes,
The war for reproduction driving us all to wreck the com
petition, leaving more possible homes for the bio
logical contents of our imaginary treasure troves.  And so
we were left to stand and watch with hearts both light
and heavy, basking and revolted at one and the same time
As the Florida sun cooked him in his skull
Like a lobster in its shell, waiting expectant
ly with drawn butter in hand, savoring the thought of how
Fantastic his flesh his emotions his dreams
Will taste when we sink our teeth and that first squirt of juice
Squirt of flavor squirt of soul passes through
The membrane between his world and our much more
bru
tal
one.