UNDER A FAITHFUL SKY Poem by Anne Vegter

Your sweetheart counted intervals in your drinking-binge. Underneath the house
the robin ranted with robins that night and interesting subjects with effervescent sentences.
He cornered me (a trick). We had a feeble day. Something exploded, the city
sprung up. What then is the protocol for animal welfare, your sweetheart said.

Almost rhythmically, an admirable tone. I believed in generous ancestries,
even though I stood strangely with billowing hands and by now everyone was ranting

The city slurred to its knees. None for desperation, he said, or just a few.
First make victims. Some might think that easy, but I mean real ones.