Reuters photo
By
Alejandro Escudé
Fatherland
The world grows inside Vladimir Putin.
It stretches within him, quickly enlarging.
Its baby beak not a beak yet, its thumbs
fleshy protrusions, and the monkey face
like an elephant’s, a see-through infant.
The world grows, a thin-thick weed,
untethered to the Coptic christ-child;
it spreads, an old, yellowed map? Putin
grins, fatherland, strides assuredly, despite
the globular growth, inspecting troops,
welcoming cosmonauts back from space.
Then, he climbs to top of his large bed,
like that queen in the children’s story who
ordered mattress stacked upon mattress.
His eyes dart toward you like a wolf-lover,
a man who’d happily deliver a world
straight to its own abortion, pincers ready,
the needle with the red drink. Our human
morals are as unexplored as the deepest
oceans—it could’ve grown to planet.
Instead, between scraps, it pulses breaths.
Alejandro Escudé
Alejandro Escudé’s first book of poems, My Earthbound Eye, was published in September 2013. He holds a master’s degree in creative writing from UC Davis and teaches English. Originally from Argentina, Alejandro lives in Los Angeles with his wife and two children.
No Comments Yet!
You can be first to comment this post!