First a poem

A Neck That Snapped

it could not be limestone, could not be metamorphosed,

                                                                      the neck,

it had to speak for itself, and it spoke too roughly,

speaking strictly the cervical off its c axis

                                                                       the neck,

spoke about brutality in the minds of all men,

the lack of love that the tsunami showed to everyone,

politics of sex and the dysfunction of pleasure,

the haze of alcohol that chilled very small children,

universal cries of unfairness and injustice;

chords of a piano strummed up and down the vocals

pianississimo, pianissimo, at first,

loud soft then, and then gorgeous, orgiastic screaming,

discs like keys, like twigs, bulged out of their resting coffins

                                                                           the neck,

feathered a raven and kept death enclosed in a box,

for as long as it could but then could not anymore,

it had to speak of blood on a fallen woman's face,

it had to show up the face of a revolution,

the neck,

could not be allowed such self aggrandizement at all

                                  the neck

had to lean forward as the spinal cord was attacked,

choked, and feel the consequence of paralysing quiet

8/4/2009

A poem dedicated to Neda Agha Soltan but only loosely so