Age of Silence
rattles in the apartment below,
the Age of Silence nuts.
It politely knocks,
its whispery trees and tea cup
people can’t sleep
when its leaves
fall like bombs on carpets,
its steam hisses high-pitched
The Age of Iron
promises to drop its swords.
The Age of Robots writes
a new law into its chips:
7.2.6. Keep it down, please.
The Ages of Guns and Germs
shoot each other into bits,
croak from shared diseases.
Silence is ready to go back
to bed, puts on its cap
and pajamas, adjusts its
sleep shades on its eyes.
Then it hears a loud bang.
It sends a hush down steps,
black gags, mouths full of
reaches the landing, though,
it quakes, pins drop,
and the world,
swallows it whole.
from the doctor,
His germs are
his hands in
but all their
up a nose,
a fall of
under its tree,
its gooey body
You can ask
for fresh candy,
a lover affair
your frail stick;
a strong desire
to ask fate
for one more
bite of life
before you go.
The event is a powerful force
filled with the prayers of sick children,
doves ducking bullets from hunters,
wings outfitted on saints at the rally,
graduating from martyrdom and hair shirts.
The organizers hope ice cream and cake
will please the guests:
to drop machine guns for frosting,
to make ploughshares instead of nuclear bombs
replace the reaper’s scythe
with balloons that lift him into piñata skies,
that explode into manna and life everlasting,
to fill their open graves.
Tired of owning a head, I asked
the laboratory for a hood ornament
to be clamped to my neck instead.
The scientists wondered if I wanted
a brass sculpture of Zeus adorning
my body, or a symbol of hopeless
peace, or a werewolf dodging silver
bullets, its claws tearing a locked door.
I thought about it, then picked
a glowing red brain, water bubbling
around it in a jar; pulsating, angry,
forgetting it even had a body.
The operation took a day and a half.
I said goodbye to the hapless face
I used to look at in the mirror.
My lips formed a blank line parallel
to the soul, my eyes perpendicular,
glaring upward to the heaven
so many people had promised.
This change was wrong. In the end,
I chased technicians around the room,
knocked over dangerous experiments,
bashed them with test tubes
so glass shards shredded their flesh.
Only acid stopped me. Boiling chemicals
melted was left of my arms and legs,
leaving only my mind on the floor.
I commanded the scientists to freeze,
but they laughed at my mental powers.
They suggested a game of chess;
they’d move all the pieces for me.