(10,000)

The People of the Other Village

hate the people of this village   

and would nail our hats

to our heads for refusing in their presence to remove them

or staple our hands to our foreheads   

for refusing to salute them

if we did not hurt them first: mail them packages of rats,

mix their flour at night with broken glass.

We do this, they do that.

They peel the larynx from one of our brothers’ throats.

We devein one of their sisters.

The quicksand pits they built were good.

Our amputation teams were better.

We trained some birds to steal their wheat.

They sent to us exploding ambassadors of peace.

They do this, we do that.

We canceled our sheep imports.   

They no longer bought our blankets.   

We mocked their greatest poet   

and when that had no effect   

we parodied the way they dance

which did cause pain, so they, in turn, said our God

was leprous, hairless.

We do this, they do that.

Ten thousand (10,000) years, ten thousand

(10,000) brutal, beautiful years.

by Thomas Lux