Children Listen

                    It turns out however that I was deeply
Mistaken about the end of the world
                The body in flames will not be the body
In flames but just a house fire ignored
                The black sails of that solitary burning
Boat rubbing along the legs of lovers
                 Flung into a Roman sky by a carousel
The lovers too sick in their love
                 To notice a man drenched in fire on a porch
Or a child aflame mistaken for a dog
                 Mistaken for a child running to tell of a bomb
That did not knock before it entered
                 In Gaza with its glad tidings of abundant joy
In Kazimierz a god is weeping
                 In a window one golden hand raised
Above his head as if he’s slipped
                 On the slick rag of the future our human
Kindnesses unremarkable as the flies
                 Rubbing their legs together while standing
On a slice of cantaloupe Children
                 You were never meant to be human
You must be the grass
                 You must grow wildly over the graves