14 May 2010 | Vol. 10, No. 1
The Dead Madrigal Bears of Afghanistan
– for Paul Cook
They wear the clever hats
of the Dog Star, of vehrmacht palettes,
not, mind you,
the German officers, but the bears
who are the visitors!
A blue light around their collars
and gold foil for long sleeves.
They are giant, they do bleed
the cold fat of rationed spam.
They read Eckhart to their children— the sermon
on being subtracted from stone.
They have lost all tolerance
for clear-cutting in the Amazon,
so they will invade soon— the celebrated
unbuttoning of strangelets in micro-railings,
in delayed proton escort,
and the stargate will activate like a Swiss Franc.
So much for the scribes of cholera, rice
shortages and the blue pomegranate
with a white worm in it.
They have been hunted into sleep
where the clean lifts
of their planet remain pinstripe
behind a dark vacant lensing.
They will carry banners that say:
THE SECRET POLICE CAN KISS MY ASS. This would
unpleasant at best with bears,
or aliens reflecting off the trapezium of Orion.
They do wash in buckets
where the moon reflects a calculus
But blessed against the new terror.
And the very old bearded cigars
of our planet.
About the author:
Norman Dubie's most recent collection of poems, Insomniac Liar of Topo, was just published by Copper Canyon Press. He lives in Arizona.
For further reading:
See the complete list of work by Norman Dubie at 42opus. Browse the contents of 42opus Vol. 10, No. 1, where "The Dead Madrigal Bears of Afghanistan" ran on May 14, 2010. List other work with these same labels: poetry.