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| > > > > > >Abduction >By: Noah Eaton >2/8/03 > >Momma slowly hangs up the phone, quivering >Mushroom clouds of sulfur fill her mind >Uncle Sam's evil twin cousin is knocking on my window >Black storks descending to take their babies tonight... > >Listen, the screen door slams, Hey Son, have I got >news for you! >Her veins from her hand trembling, gone red to blue >Those same hands she used to nurture and feed her kids >These same hands will be empty now, how will she take >this? > >Call yourself Abduction >Call yourself Blasphemy >Call yourself AUTODAFE >Who will account for the frost heaving? >While you're in your neck of the wood pretending >you're breathing? >Meanwhile, I'll just keep standing my ground >Watching the mothers tidy pre-made beds >Stirring ladles in chicken soup for the usurped soul >Victims of this invisible abduction >Victims of this shame... > >Biscuits and gravy are lying on the kitchen table >The last meal she will see her son eat before he goes >She swears that psalm on her china plate will remain >her leitmotif >But the sunlight it reflects lacks the birefringence >she thought she'd keep > >How does it feel to have incalary days? >How does it feel if you can really feel these birth >pangs? >So why need all of this circumscription? >If you want this damn thing so bad, why don't you come >and get it? > >Call yourself Abduction >Call yourself Blasphemy >Call yourself AUTODAFE >Who will account for the frost heaving? >While you're in your neck of the wood pretending >you're breathing? >Meanwhile, I'll just keep standing my ground >Watching the mothers tidy pre-made beds >Stirring ladles in chicken soup for the usurped soul >Victims of this invisible abduction >Victims of this shame... > >The instance I read the autoinoculation in the news >today >Was the second I came down with the sickness >The instance I saw the thieves running through my >neighborhood >I found myself already behind the portcullis... > >But I dare not say what I think you're going to say >Gerrymandling on your abridged interpretations of the >agenda >Ghostwriting with scholars you've never shaken hands >with >Playing chess with a ghost that only wants an armistice > >Here's Allegro to resemble the shackles of innocence >Here's Adagio to assert the red vultures of pestilence >Here's Andante to reveal behind the cloaks the real >idiots >Here's Presto to place blame on the ransoms you >permit... > >Call yourself Abduction >Call yourself The Tragedian >Call yourself Gethsemane >Who will account for the frost heaving? >While you're in your neck of the wood pretending >you're breathing? >Meanwhile, I'll just keep standing my ground >Watching the mothers tidy pre-made beds >Stirring ladles in chicken soup for the usurped soul >Victims of this invisible abduction >Victims of this wicked game... > > > |