Garden of Eden

(Genesis of the US Police State)

by T.P. Wilkinson / September 30th, 2018

Gone west,
with the trees
the fruits
and the pits,
their god’s own
country
with bared asses
and tits.
That fabled
biblical nudity
prevail
until its famed
residents
opened their mail.
It wasn’t an apple
lurid with greed
Nor berries shamelessly
scattering seed
but the tree of a plum,
in the sun dried
and done,
in the sin tried,
natives fried,
slaves whipped
for fun.
Burned in prunery
the hot garden
of prudery,
quenching their thirst,
ignoring crimes worse,
slurping juice of obscenity
from the fruit of mendacity
discharging the narrative
national
eased by a laxative
irrational.

T.P. Wilkinson, Dr. rer. pol. writes, teaches History and English, directs theatre and coaches cricket between the cradles of Heine and Saramago. He is author of Unbecoming American: A War Memoir and also Church Clothes, Land, Mission and the End of Apartheid in South Africa. Read other articles by T.P..

This article was posted on Sunday, September 30th, 2018 at 8:03am and is filed under Poetry.