black boy

Trevor Wedge

I. forewarned of its tenor

Scatter harvest
destroy the offspring
meet the horse
turn your back,
arrive, holy salami soldiers!
Battle shall retire ye
mightily brought down,
lo! far-seeing Jove pierced your brain w/
the same uranium
that pierced Iraqi orchards.
Divine budlite Cithaeron will grant
only limited prayers,
once adamant
once excellent lords of Olympus.

Wretches, why sit ye here?
The crags on your body,
the new fire in hands
feet & middle,
all ruined & lost.
Many dark shrines of destruction,
now dripping
trembling,
black blood pending prophetic fear,
the sweat and distresses,
horrible!
Lo! The ills that await thee.

II. Black Boy

Angry Democrats explode thru plateglass,
crowded gasmask angels strip
sunsets & down over in Iraqi streams
cokebottles bounce off myriad worn
plastic boot heals,
phantom cheeks steps and stares,
the white-faced six-pack victim
covered in Pentagon pencil prescription
buttons,
His political black boy running out
to shoot plump faggots & chaste lean
grandfathers,
getting wounded by his radiant blond
nephew years later,
sun off the black bar table.

III. down against flowers

Only the monstrous bells,
hasty rapid rifles
rattle & die
with prayer or bell,
the voice of shrill bugle
dements the call for mourning,
a general speeds from wailing choir shires
in his fucking Lexus,
good eyes gone
good byes shall be their holy glimmer,
of hands
of flowers,
slow dusk drawing down tender
blind minds.

The House’s applause threatened plenty,
pain o`er history,
a smiling, ruined senate
circumscribing land and nation,
wading through slaughter to
shut fast the gates of mercy.
The incense shrine
the blushes of a kindled crowd,
frail memorial rhymes spelt by
the rustic moralist military pastor
never but cheap comfort gave,
not saying not touching
lies of glory lead but to the grave.

Oft brushing some kindred mind
in that lonely line,
the spirit of their contemplation gone,
hastyheaded swain now rooted upon the upland lawn.

IV. empty set

Prophesy:
American mouth-brain evolution complete,
the giant American Army, sometimes private,
on the march
screaming thru,

Airwave trumpets blast prophesy
over ribboned cities
over ruby night buildings,
downtown turrets guard souls &
monitor traffic;
nation money system,
the debt-interest enemies!
Smiling usurers
passing out the water,
rolling back millions
of Minnesota hopes &
bellies–
the cheekboned blond Sunday
morning sunlight,
dreaming face-down.

If only our enemies were
enraptured in hypnotic war,
as we,
our own broken
scattered, yellow children & brothers
talk gibberish,
mouthed for all by TV,
of Iraq
of stars
imagination & feeling,
and we’re trapped–
in electronic domains of
GE NBC CNN NPR AP REUTERS News Bureaus,
all one
winking red electrical
WAR,
we lose:
no blood let in big blue rivers
no fight during Bible hour,
US-80 runs smooth.

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