the boys in the house making miniature suicide bombers from action figures and firecrackers. the blind dogs of Dundas, Ontario positioning themselves on the Armenian rug ready for toilet action. a football team poking each other in the eyes & drinking Slurpees. an election for chief cloud, big cheese rainmaker, and the kahuna of thunder. a waylaid order for weeping tiles and a garden gnome smashed in by a stone. birds exchange their wings for the power of speech and instead find they have inspiring legs. a stapler shaped like a fish and a metal frog toppled over on top of the speaker. the Internet is down and there’s a large man carrying a blue plastic tub up the driveway. take apart the metal grid of a shopping cart and form it into a life-size lightning flash. I have always worn a raincoat, even when I had no shoulders, had an umbrella, and it wasn’t raining. even miniature suicide bombers must have a cause, however small. the masseurs jump from the bridge and their hands are ready for whatever pains the air or gravity provides.
*
Emily Lloyd over at the always fascinating
poesy galore blog linked to
this post about Blind Masseurs jumping off a bridge in Korea, in protest against laws which sought to render the role of masseur to be no longer the exclusive role for the blind in Korea, (which provided them with otherwise hard to get employment.) I couldn't help myself, despite Emily putting dibs on the story for use in a poem, I wrote the above piece.
Comments