“what is for some people a radical event may appear to others as a date for lunch.”
-marshall sahlins
we came round to the beach
hollering women
hailing the harvest:
oh, that we might have children by chieftans and gods!
so hoisting our hopes for
fat futures like
the flags of the season
we carried aloft
so high were our hearts that morning
that to the mass of us, bound tight
it seemed a lark
that gods should come
hanging their own pale flags
on our glassy horizon,
inching closer across the day
as they drew nearer
white
circled the island and
came alight, vast vessels
sailing into our proverbial inlet
we moved in
a mass of breasts and oocytes
wading waist deep
in exaltation
on the third day
we bore bounty to the ships
a grand lunch
heavy fruit
only to find
that godly as they appeared
the men ate,
mere mortals.
