Antaeus in the modern world
Antaeus bearing the world up
On his strong shoulders doesn’t notice
The ants in column after column
Marching up his legs from the ground
Beneath his feet. He would have sung
His anthem to the sky had he but time,
But since that was running short, he
Stood his ground holding up the world,
For the hoot the owl at night gave…
Little Bo-Peep finds his way
Through the bramble bushes of power.
He better than most knows the late hour,
He who can undo the fragment
And paste wholeness in a word.
It’s what we do now, he thinks,
The reign of terror all around him
While, in cold silence, he blinks.
(And you know wherever he goes,
The lawyers aren’t far behind.)
The weight gravity gives him
Is not his own, the cup of coffee
He delights in under the canopy
Of officialdom has his blood
Racing at a slow boil, as Brother Ant
Spells “great” J-O-H-N. Hello, John.
It’s not these and it’s not those, he adds.
The Father who’s come to see the gift
Not to be exploited but to be loved
(as heads nod off to sleep, if not
in agreement, thinking to themselves:
“I wish never to die alone.”)
Is he going to be here another five
Years, they’re all wondering. Woof-woof
Comes an answer, heard through an open
Window from far away. His magic
Masters neither time nor space, not
Even the expression on his rival’s
Face. No, the magic he wields, wanes.
While the Mrs. sits at home
Pounding the table yelling “More!”
Able to state the obvious
In a not so devious fashion. David
Bowie, meanwhile, shags his next
Lover backstage, the concert over
And done with, a memory made
Skin on skin for a future tall tale
That grows smaller with each telling.
Who’d do me this way, were his last
Words, not even the silence would answer…