For The Sake Of Argument

For the sake of argument let's say you have no identity.
For the sake of argument let's say you're an image
you make and remake, a lump of clay, thrown on a wheel,
hollowed out as it rises until its walls, too brittle,
crumble, or if not, sustain an astounding grace
but disappoint after the glazing, or if not, enthrall,
delight and excite until you drop it in your reverie.

Let's say, for the sake of argument, that you are a masterpiece
sitting in the British Museum until, like Sumer, like Egypt,
your museums are destroyed and you,
like all the masterpieces that surround you,
are desecrated by barbarian hordes who, living in poverty,
watching your television shows, their envy and malice
feeding their power and violence, put an end to you.

Let's say, for the sake of argument
you are an insect caught in amber
and it is only the wind that seems
to make your dry limbs shudder.


© Dan Goorevitch, 2003