The Minister of Inaction (poem)
The Minister of Inaction
The minister of inaction
Keeps perch en pointe, soft chamois slippers toe the orb
That bald pate of Oz, antiquity’s ruler-deity
Admired with gentle pity by explorers
Dust devil sands have scoured him to ivory
Your hope in stealing close to shelter from the dreary sun
Curled to a ball in the cavern
of the monumental nostril
Is to make your petitioning steps disturb
Grain by grain, only, pittering a limited
Release of sound that can’t be shocking
Therefore, hearing, he may climb down
He has been known, when falling
To snuff, hitting earth, into invisibility
or whirl off inside the funnel
The funnel of some great engine
Towers canting, tiny cinders tout calamity
Parachute to light the house-tops
With a wink of orange
Unseasonable changes in velocity
Shudder into fissures already formed
Flatten yourself against the cornerstone
While concreted facing-work comes down
Stories come down from distant places
Where buses and marches searing heat and inundation
Bearing death in life
and asking
can a stranger suffer
not as you
Poppets
Even Heard
(2018, Stephanie Foster)