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Wednesday, April 14, 2010

FATE by Kelly Wantuch (Ekphrastic on Andy Warhol's 129 Die in Jet)


There was time, and later
There was wreckage thrown in
The ripe wheat fields of Wakarusa.
Grasshoppers floated above
The fiery battleship
Ashes like drunken angels
Falling from the sky’s stars.
Crows cried out when Andy
Warhol’s remains were found.
Marilyn’s cries soaked the earth
Stinging the praying earthworms
Burned skin reminding us all
Of our own future extinction
Taken when least expected.

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