07 April 2016

Poem-A-Day #38 : Oilcans


At some point in the future                    there
will be an explosion                    we lock the barrels full of explosion
                    to keep us safe

But then the explosion will ferment                   will somehow find a way
as it must                    because that is the way
                    Do human bodies melt like popsicles in that kind of heat?

This evokes Sartre                    his hell in other people mythos
pouring from the rain spouts                    filling the barrels
                    meant for the gardens

He rises from his tomb                    he dips a toe in the water
collecting on the tops of sealed barrels of explosion                    and it doesn't melt
                    but it certainly can't feel good

Source: Bibliotheque Nationale de France/Gallimarde

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