Human Nature
That the great lofting bird, whose glide
so high in circles on V-flung wings
we admire as majestic, only thinks
about sniffing up dead people to eat
is too gloomy to contemplate. Since things
are what they are, it’s best always to say
what they aren’t. The sharp-shinned hawk,
perching with such military smartness
in the yellow poplar, for example, watches
the birdfeeder with unwavering diligence,
thinking only about killing people,
then eating them; a thought so much less
putrid that we know she strikes her noble pose
to rebuke highfliers their slouching waddle
over corpses that we slew and in hot onslaught
left crushed to the road behind us. Best
to think nice thoughts, nestle down to dream
dreams of glory—snatching up the standard
in a cozy din of horror at Gettysburg
or Gallipoli. After all, being what we must be,
let’s let a stately sweep of far foragers
bring not to mind some ghoulish creeping
over a field of slain, but let’s see instead
The Cross of Constantine adjuring us
to once again rejoice in the violence
that always must bear it away and assures us
of our chosen seats in paradise.
so high in circles on V-flung wings
we admire as majestic, only thinks
about sniffing up dead people to eat
is too gloomy to contemplate. Since things
are what they are, it’s best always to say
what they aren’t. The sharp-shinned hawk,
perching with such military smartness
in the yellow poplar, for example, watches
the birdfeeder with unwavering diligence,
thinking only about killing people,
then eating them; a thought so much less
putrid that we know she strikes her noble pose
to rebuke highfliers their slouching waddle
over corpses that we slew and in hot onslaught
left crushed to the road behind us. Best
to think nice thoughts, nestle down to dream
dreams of glory—snatching up the standard
in a cozy din of horror at Gettysburg
or Gallipoli. After all, being what we must be,
let’s let a stately sweep of far foragers
bring not to mind some ghoulish creeping
over a field of slain, but let’s see instead
The Cross of Constantine adjuring us
to once again rejoice in the violence
that always must bear it away and assures us
of our chosen seats in paradise.
