(pace Agnes Fong)

XL.

The zoo cages are fool’s gold,
but the bars are cubic zirconia—
as white and sparkly as soap froth 
in a baptismal basin.

Spectators guffaw at the imprisoned clergy
leaping about the monkey bars,
their black robes aloft,
as they snarl and spit
their competing theologies—
priest versus pastor
versus rabbi versus imam,
displaying a disposition
for chimp-primate habits.

They jabber like bank robbers
on their target’s premises—
maximum 1 minute—
roaring orders
never to be reconciled.

How to domesticate theologians?

Line them up according to how
their gospel songs intersect—
John Cage-by-choral-cage.

False prophets?  A bonanza!
They harass each other from putrid stalls,
each pretending to a hermetic Sobriety
they then scheme to franchise.

These engines of Torture and Solitude—
compradors spitting toilet water
(not eau de toilette),
acid,
next bare fangs even biting the wind?

Impossible to treaty with these varmints!
Let ’em screech and jump about
behind their lamé-spangled bars!

Are they pacific wolves in sheep’s garb?
Dumping shit on grass under sunlight?

No!  They tear off faces!
Laughingly lap up the autumnal, animal blood.

[13 janvier mmxxii]

*This "trancelation" of a piece by Agnes Fong (Lucero) is NOT a translation. Instead, it is the result of guesswork about what the original Spanish poem may indeed be saying. The result is a surreal shadow or echo in English of the Spanish-worded piece.