Scarecrow on thorn farm & They've killed them all
by Michael Standaert
[ poetry - may 05 ]
Scarecrow on thorn farm
The branch of the watching tree
Shades the last carriage
Gathering up the remains
Of alphabets, ash heaps, ruddy corals
There is no protection
Under the watching tree
From the arrows of hunger
From the flies around their eyes
Engaged in nothing but bartering
Wisdom and dreams
A mouth forms vaguely
Around the watching tree
A slow hollow sound now
Blowing and breathing with ecstasy
A rage of double-cross
Betrays the fugitives
Clambering for the vines, clinging
More numerous than the stars
That pock the belly above the watching tree
They've killed them all
In a few days the enemy was gone
Harvested, given to the horses to eat
A guilty man apart from the ceremony of misfortune
Imprisoned for something he had never done
These thorns spring from Joseph's holy staff
Like a pregnant woman stopping and starting to inhale
The twine of bandages bound round Buddha's eyes
A dividing line between darkness and light
Muddled by a match struck with ordinary agility
This backbiting and gall and promises of meeting
Houris in Paradise, a contagious pawn
For those who play with others lives
