Beichuan the Assassin

31Mar09

Jianjiang river
undulates
to a deceptive cadence,
grinds her hips like Brazil.

Jesus, jumping or no.
Happy Buddha,
the man and not the dish.
Professors of geology, everywhere:

We congratulate you on
a most spectacular opening.
An evening of murderous reverberations.
Brought us to our feet.  Our knees. Our longest rest.

Cut-rate coffee,
great businessman of the East,
lead-based paint,
take note:

Every courtship, marriage,
the birth and death of every daughter
everywhere
is this bone white china
at cupboard’s edge.
May it luck out.

Should tide be willing,
please call on Beichuan the Assassin.
Ask her grace only if she’d be so kind
as to spare someone,
a reminder,
a clue.

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