Still Life with Firearms
It would
be peaceful here
if it
weren’t for the crucified thieves
writhing
in the background.
A waiter
with the red face of a seraph
sidles up
and offers to show me to a table.
I hurry
away as if I had somewhere to go.
Others
remain at home with their belongings.
I walk
until I’m lost. Later,
insects
will fly gaily around the light
while I
undress for bed in weary silence,
like an
obscure municipal official
just
returned from the famine zone.
