The Minotaur
The blood was real but the acting was fake so too the victory the war itself projected on a bed sheet tacked on a fence that was visible only to those who were willing to get down real low in the muck and to hike up their pants for the final run through the streets festooned with all manner of irresponsible decorations. If blood is thicker than water than what of muck? I thought that righteous anger was simply a bad burrito and decided to leave the revolution up to your imagination which was more than I could deliver and less than you deserved. Of No Particular Consequence But Well Worth The WaitI opted for the less apt metaphor to save you the trouble of having to tease out the hair pellet of my good intentions, so imagine my surprise when I realized that the letter in Esperanto left on the kitchen table had never been meant for me in the first place. Imagine Your SurpriseBy deadl serious I mean in terms of the garden of earthly delights and the chalk outline whose only crime was an increasing impatience for the plum rains. |
Christopher T. Keaveney is a Portland-based writer currently living in Japan where he is a faculty member in the Global Liberal Arts Program at Rikkyo University in Tokyo. His poetry has appeared in Spoon River Poetry Review, Columbia Review, Cardiff Review, Borderlands: Texas Poetry Review, Stolen Island, Faultline and elsewhere. He is the author of the collections Your Eureka Not Mined (Broadstone Books, 2017) and The Boy Who Ate Nothing But Sonnets (Clare Songbirds Press, 2019).
These three poems were written after my wife and I relocated to Japan several years ago, a move that coincided with the emergence of the Covid-19 pandemic and with Russia’s invasion of the Ukraine. These poems reflect a time of uncertainty and loss and the accompanying sense of dislocation.
These three poems were written after my wife and I relocated to Japan several years ago, a move that coincided with the emergence of the Covid-19 pandemic and with Russia’s invasion of the Ukraine. These poems reflect a time of uncertainty and loss and the accompanying sense of dislocation.