SOULS for Ernesto Cardenal
THE SOULS HAVE NO VALUE THEY ARE FOX FURS
THAT WE DRAPE OVER WELL-FED ARMS AND SHOULDERS
BUT STILL THEY ARE HARD-EARNED AND LONG SOUGHT
BY THOSE WITH THE LUXURY AND ENERGY
TO TORMENT AND TO LOVE THEM INTO BEING!!
WE ARE WARM STONES
and we smell ourselves
in the screeching
of cluster bombs on Iraq.
SOULS HAVE NO WORTH
except red splatters on walls and gobbets
of meat and fox furs.
YO, NOT ME!
says the lithe cherub on his skateboard
tearing open a high protein bar.
says the sweaty chicken
as her beak is snipped off at the factory farm.
says the antibiotic heaved into the pig feed
with sheep carcasses and blood-clotted paper
from slaughter house floors.
WHAT ARE SOULS WHEN