2 September 2002 | Vol. 2, No. 3

A Bruegel in Vienna for a Friend in Kiev

by ROBERT GIBBONS

Nothing reluctant, the singing,

the kissing, the blind

love in rhythm,

in sync with

ox-bladder bagpipe.

It's Oktoberfest, everyone hopped up.

The oak in the foreground still holds on

to leaves, but a fallen jug handle foreshadows

the next day. Two children

offer each other the purity of open,

empty hands. The church at road's end

in admiration of its harvest of soles. The best

peasant blood dances disregarding the obvious

proximity to skeletal remains,

& particles of earth rising

before us too fine for us

to see.