In Praise of Innocence

/, Blesok no. 65/In Praise of Innocence

In Praise of Innocence

In Praise of Innocence
Family Matters
Beef
Wartime
Lightning
Vision
The Object Taken
Sent Packing

Language clear and see-through as poisoned
water, deadly as a ballerina’s smile. The foal

isn’t innocent; look at the way it bites the bark
and leaves trees dying. The normal lamb will butt

you in the crotch – and rightly so. The lamb
too cute for its own good, the helpless one on

legs like unspun wool? It dies first as the Good
Shepherd talks straight with a butcher’s knife.

Language, the politician’s tool; language unclear,
the civil servant’s fodder. Theirs is the Chemical

Wedding of might. The new alchemy
became the old religion. All popes called Innocent

were knowing politicians and –uncivil to mention it–
creators of endless strings of civil wars. The lamb

too cute for its own good. The helpless one
on legs like unspun wool. It dies first.

AuthorHenk van Kerkwijk
2018-08-21T17:22:59+00:00 April 29th, 2009|Categories: Poetry, Blesok no. 65|0 Comments