Miro's Game

Miro's Spiel/Miro's Game 29 x 29 cm acryl on raw canvas

ICONOCLASTS

A couple hundred years

after Jesus was sacrificed

his followers, dressed

in black robes, stinking

to high heaven, faces wooly

with coarse hair, smashed the noses,

breasts and penises of classical

statuary, carving crosses on the calm marble foreheads

of Apollo and Aphrodite. Stinking Taliban

bearded like fundamentalist hipsters

blowing up graceful representations

of Buddha in some outback of Hindu Kush,

leaving only shit and garbage in their wake.

The Islamic State spreading its thuggish

theater of pious cruelty,

bulldozing and hammering into dust the

unutterable elegance of Palmyra. Now my beautiful end game

is that all of these ungodly freaks

square-off in a sealed-up arena just before time begins

armed with their cudgels and their jackhammers

and sticks of dynamite, and throw in a horde of West Bank Zealots

and pro-gun lobbyists, and have them all go after each other

with the ferocity of hyenas rending the remains

of a young antelope. Polluted blood rises to the rafters.

Who do I think would win, you ask? Why, honey, you and I would win.