Deep in the Hard Part
Deep in the Hard Part
by Robert Bové (April 2006)
(Part 2 here. “Them Bones” here.)
Five Years On
Pride, sloth, and avarice prowl a pit.
Nobody penetrates that circle.
A walk away, righteous skeptics still profess
impotence, indifference, fear of truth
to distracted children.
Five years on, no faring well
here, but elsewhere
the architects of nada are
hunted where they live.
My Dearest Muji:
We sent our saints,
such as we produced,
to spread joy, convert.
First, you took their tongues.
We have forgotten
who they were, what it
was they had to say.
You wish we still knew.
So do we, at times,
the time between those
times growing longer,
our saints now born mute.
We, too, can be cruel.
We may be sorry,
expressing regret
unconvincingly.
But when it’s over
(will this be over?)
we will not be friends
and you will know well
peace be upon you.
The Discarded
I have not seen you nest with
your wife, your girl, not lately.
You are each too busy with
other things to be gentle.
What would Omar sing, could he
sing again, of your mothers’
strapping bombs to your children?
What do boys know of virgins?
An AsideFor Omar
To be sure, we have misplaced Romance:
our troubadours now perform like engorged pythons
at their own electrocution;
our celebrities haunt the world like third-rate Dorian Grays.
But our soldiers, our soldiers, when they come home:
if you could but witness their families’ embrace.
If we have misplaced Romance,
we yet can find it in books, in an old movie, in a flea market 78.
We still know how to kiss, some of us.
Our children still marry for Romance, though botch it more often than not.
But The Mujahadeen’s Homecoming: A horror to contemplate,
its setting, a house with one book—and not yours, Omar, not yours.
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Robert Bové contributes regularly to The Iconoclast, our Community Blog. Click here to see all his contributions, on which comments are welcome.