Limbo Lads

Limbo Lads

So where the hell
were they?
In a Dali dream,
a Klee conundrum,
a Pollock possibility,
a Picasso picaro?

One moment they were
in Baghdad,
Havana, Berlin, and Detroit
and then not
there,
but here
in some spiraling spiritual shredder;
some with whole bodies,
some with missing floating limbs;
none with skin—
studies in cosmic anatomy
with pieces of muscle, sinew, ligaments
stretched taunt
over a strange non-human exoskeleton,
punctuated with gears, colored lights,
and unknown bulbous masses.
Where were their old bones?

These were
the lads of sadness,
who lived without insight,
who believed
in nothing—
floating together here
by the trillions,
strangely intertwined
with the infinite chain of eyes,
watching them,
guarding them,
peering right through them.
For Christ’s sake,
what was next?

Glenn A. Buttkus September 2008