ariel’s dream
by Noel Rooney
[ poetry - january 06 ]
you get nothing except by strong bidding;
or the king’s blood is a strumpet’s footbath;
it’s the murderers who build the monuments,
melchizadeks who tend the dubious shrines
feckless martyrs make prudent shades,
saving up their sulphurous raw stares. they
have locked the intifada into my final
settlement. i flame distinctly
not a soul but felt the fever of the mad
ariel, and all his quality, the fire and crack
drew zealots to the camps, but i
predated. the blood has burst my veins
political realities litter the unpersuaded ground,
abraham’s others: i am nothing if not critical
