THE TRICKSTER IS STILL AROUND

THE TRICKSTER IS STILL AROUND

Not Loki or Enki,

not Coyote who stole fire

or Wakjunkaga who made

himself some women’s parts 

and gave birth to three sons. 

 

This one carries his tiny penis

in a jumbo jet. His wives

and daughters are plastic dolls,

his sons the undead.

He eats honor, shits coal.

His houses are built of bones.

 

Make no mistake:

somewhere under our nice

we want to be like him—

possess without limit,

rule without shame.

 

He shows us, uncovers us.

Unless we change our lives,

he will never go away.

3 comments on “THE TRICKSTER IS STILL AROUND

  1. Holy Cow! quite an amazing rant of a poem! Surely you could write about flowers and butterflies? flutter and flower-flies? The second stanza hit me like a club. well done!

    • Thanks. I’ve lately been listening to lectures about myth in history, and was really taken by the Trickster who is thought to be necessary to shake a culture out of its complacency. That whole idea gives me a kind of hope.

      >

  2. Christine Lee Moore says:

    Mary, you nailed it!

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