Phnom Penh

by tremens


If Man were made in the image of God,
then does God cheat, lie, plunder or kill?

It is not kindness that leads us to free
our own from the yoke of life,
even in mass graves evidence of death
fails to fright the powerful

Whose faces are so well designed
only Apollo could sculpt Him
but Apollo cannot be caged, the sun would pour forth the edges of a cell
or be released by flattered walls.

Not out of love do we hand out
famine, fritters or bigotry on street corners
or out of joy fall envious of the lamplighters
who catch fire with their learned pages and fry

But now it is morning
proud to have candled the cosmos for a second
the children have been taught to pluck and cradle
warm, brown grenades

How can a naked man run past curfew
the streets without living?