Not the wielders of guns
but their idolators; not
out in the outdoors, but
exposing themselves with
social media, less as a
dorm of helpless twinks,
than as twigs fermenting
in the dank undergrowth.
They claim to speak for
a nation great and, can
you stand it, fearless.
They call for a cartoon
kind of carnage, fanta-
sy obliterations, sala-
cious sufferings, you'd
think they'd had by now.
I suppose the first law
of defaming lust, is to
pursue its misdirection.
Or was this why we read
The Bacchae in daylight?
of a falcon as I walk out onto the lake.
Robin Robertson
Sailing the Forest
Selected Poems
Signs on a White Field
[fragment]
ibid.
i Daniel Hasselberg, photo
ii Tim Heatherington, photo
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