KM4
3 Oracle
The little man carved out of bone
shouts something to the world the world can’t hear.
All around him the roads, lost in drifted, deep red sand,
die out in sun just clearing the plain.
Dried out, faded, he makes an invocation at an altar:
an AK-47 stood up on its butt end in a pile of rock.
The AK talks the talk of what guns talk—
not rage or death or clichés of killing,
but specifics of what it means to be fired off in the air.
No fear when it jams, no enemy running away,
no feeling like a river overflowing in a cloudburst—
forget all that: the little man of bone is not the streaming head
of the rivergod roaring at Achilles; nor dead Patroclos
complaining in a dream how Achilles has forgotten him.
The AK wants to tell a different truth—
a truth ungarbled that is so obvious
no one could possibly mistake its meaning.
If you look down the cyclops-eye of the barrel
what you’ll see is a boy with trousers
rolled above his ankles.
You’ll see a mouth of bone moving in syllables
that have the rapid-fire clarity
of a weapon that can fire 600 rounds a minute.
Contributor’s notes: Tom Sleigh
Contributor’s notes: Michael Hafftka
KM4 Introduction: Poem & Paintings
Artist’s Statement: Michael Hafftka
KM4