The Sword in the Scabbard

The Sword in the Scabbard

 

by k shawn edgar

 

Remember,

everything passes.

Humans, onion skins,

and apple cores are born

 

cast off

cast out

cast aside,

 

and in passing through

the turnpikes and elbow joints

of our handmade sewage ways,

or the cervix and labia

of our handmade bodies,

arrive like pachinko balls

slotted in suburbs, city centers,

or prairie towns, naked.

 

It’s not our reward,

and it’s not our punishment,

this curly-grained lay of the land.

It’s the chance encounter;

it’s the turn of the screw,

a game we’ve made it.

 

From a donkey born,

a unicorn can grow.

And unicorns can harbor

shriveled, beat-less hearts,

as donkeys can pump

fierce oxygen-rich dragon blood.

 

So, gutter born or mansion raised,

we all started life in a pear-shaped organ

between the bladder and the rectum,

our handmade sewage ways,

in a town called Corpus.

 

 

K. Shawn Edgar 2012

 

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8 thoughts on “The Sword in the Scabbard

  1. Essential truths here. Somebody famous once said that there’s no way the human body could have possibly been designed by anyone intelligent because they put the recreation area right next to the sewage outlet.

    I don’t want to start any blasphemous rumors, but I think that God’s got a sick sense of humor…

      1. “…and when I die, I expect to find him laaaaughing.” (Depeche Mode is one of my favorite bands.)

        Ah yes, it was Stephen Fry on an episode of QI, telling what is apparently an old joke. “How can you tell that God is civil engineer? Because he put the recreational area right next to the sewage outlet.”

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