It’s beautiful this way, isn’t it?
Look at how cobalt swirls define
the snapped green outlines of continents,
the red of territories where cities crackle
with intermittent light or gunfire. Line up
the edges of the clear acrylic cage so they
resemble markings on a turtle shell. Set it
on the shelf, or on an antique rolltop desk
inlaid with gold from melted teeth. Ransoms
have been paid for loveliness less than this.
We’ve brought war to countless flea-ridden
villages harboring dark wells of oil, beaches
mottled with the dust of diamonds. In return,
see all the trade that journeys back to us
in ochre and blue container vessels, the bills
of lading penned in more than a dozen foreign
tongues. The diners in the inner room
are cataloguing artifacts before their
disappearance: smoked foam of fungi
gathered in thunderstorms, sleek
bodies of eels entombed in blocks
of marbled tofu, ortolans drowned
in Armagnac… For let it not be said
our love is shabby, or lacking for display.
~ (after Peter Eudenbach)
In response to Via Negativa: The Inward Park.