Becka Mara McKay Delray Beach (Lucia Leao)
Leviticus as Punchline for a Bad Joke The president walked into history like a battery of gnats swarming summer’s lost wine. Each commandment you unearth-- hued in chalcedony and anthracite, divided with camels and cattle-- offers further fuel for the argument with God: Did He mean, in the end, to punish us or protect us? Are we experiment or intention? The president was disgorged into history, bad meat in a linen napkin. Some of us gave up. Some of us said let the consecrated field be the home he cannot destroy. Maybe everything that refuses God’s abstraction becomes a kind of mutation, like the thought that warps and splits on its way to the word. The president met history dressed in suit and tie but would not shake hands. Let the consecrated field remain in the grip of the gleaners, who crouch at the edges and wait, sheaving their needs against darkness. |
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