Friday, July 31, 2009

The Smell of Sulfur

The Smell of Sulfur
By Sergio A. Ortiz

The odor of sulfur was as strong
as the company brought to the podium of Titans.
Gaia and Ouranos spat angry epithets to each other
in the oval office of the armory on Boulevard
where the effigy hid bottles of gin.

On television the rib-tickling, righteous Titan
got an opportunity to explain the notion
of drowning in the desert to the nation recently targeted
by terror. The program furthered the graven image’s intent
to build a large metal barrier. Who knew if it was to keep
some out, or trap some in?

Women tip-toeing north through the desert
left an uncomfortable trail of blood too long to ignore,
rivers of pearls buried under the roots of ancient
saguaros on Cristero soil.

Words pronounced by shebang smoking idols
didn't mean a thing to thirty million butterflies.
They were there first.

Copyright © 2009 Sergio A. Ortiz

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