academies of silence

•

"By day there are academies of silence.
At night we hear the hungry bleating
Of carnivorous lambs."
- Richard Shelton

                morning light arrives in its coat
                          of wrinkled cellophane.
    again on the t.v. life pulls open its
           embroidered suede curtain of safety.
 at the bus stop light wind over
  my legs turn to page 142 class
            is now in session, ahem.
  it's the favorite new show
       brought to you by a breakfast food
on a sunshine colored formica kitchen table
       loaded with vitamins and minerals
           with a picture of a pole
                           vaulter on the box.

           the textbook is called invertebrate
  zoology yes sir. describe
            newton's third law of
                        motion yes sir.
    on the tremorous violinometry and
              the lyric architectoria of
    the beehive and the wasp's nest no
                 i do not understand sir.
        permission to use the restroom
          no sir. describe plato's
    third law of socratic motion no sir.
        stand at attention colonel
                    roll the cameras popcorn
                         peanuts bird
        thou never wert yes sir.
we have seen you in the watchfires
  of a hundred circling camps
field-strip-search and clean
              your weapon soldier sir
       no excuse sir.

  the class sessions proceeded for
 two or three weeks. the man on t.v. said
      baa. the other man on t.v., in
                   fresh blue clothes like
                            a police officer's,
 raised his hand and said baaa.
        the other men on t.v., in
        gray clothes like a bank
loan officer's, said baa
        and sat down.
 blue light filled the room,
   silver and fluorescent, polished
 chrome car bumper. clouds
     and rust filtered in through the air vents.
 the sound of a lawn mower
                 from the neighbor's yard.
  a man on t.v. said it remains unclear.
the weather report came in, bright-lit
       and blue-mapped and reassuring.

       morning light peels open
     its wrapping of aluminum foil
                  and the slaughter begins.
we pledge allegiance to the stock options
         of the united states of america.
   night falls over the restless desert.
       the slow rounded stones grow silent,
                                     sensing danger.
cooling air settles into crevices
            in low ground, shoulders bent,
                                   narrow-eyed.
    the man in gray clothes like an
insurance agent's smiles
                           with blank face
            at a camera, points
  at a bright-colored box in his hand,
      says i have no knowledge, says
              difficult choices.
 now the stars grow bright
        and sharp, pointed like teeth.
    a rustling sound, of a heavy
                               curtain pulling across.
now the cries go up, high and strained,
 rolling in over the shifting hills,
            bending around the corners
                                of houses, thin
       as puffs of dust, ragged
                                   with panting,
                               baaa,
                                    baaa.