fall of man – Bez&Co

(by Daniel R. Jones)

Outside the slaughterhouse
the cows low out their one-note prayer
begging God to redeem this part of creation.

Miasmatic sky oppresses
trees of the field too weak
to clap their hands.

The sulfur and particulate
from smog and smoke
clog stomatic pores.

Shagbark hickories splay
a myriad of black fingers to the sky,
pleading for vindication.

Fish become flotsam
caracasses float to the surface
in what can’t be mistaken for ascension.

The roiling sea cries out,
“Would that God descend from His heaven
and say again, ‘Be still.'”

And we, the Pestilence,
lacking the mendicancy
of the breast-beating tax collector,

refuse to acknowledge this.
God’s creation? Just collateral damage.
Reprobation? We named it the Fall of Man.

Having borne the brunt
of the women’s curse,
your mother sat with you,
quietly nursing at her breast.

Your pink wrinkles shielded under
her sea-green hospital gown:
My eyes are blessed to see this.
Blessed and red and wet.

Every few days, your lifespan doubled,
but all you knew so far was white walls
sterile scenery and dry hospital air.

I read the parable of the lost sheep
and a Pablo Neruda poem—
wistful and melancholy.
For now you’ll just have to imagine
what a sheep or a Chilean “calle” might look like.

The brunt of a man’s curse
is that the work he does
for the ones he loves
is done almost entirely away from them.

I kissed your head and I headed for the door into the sunshine,
hoping maybe tomorrow you could see it for yourself.

Tag: fall of man

Reprobation (Poem)

The Brunt of the Curse (poem)