Christmas
Reading the Web
©
Randy Adams
A
volcanic crater on Jupiter's Io,
named after a Brazilian thunder god,
is measured at 47 miles across.
Apparently, intermingled patches
of sulphur in the 3,000 foot cliffs
are proving difficult to explain.
Back
on earth several tonnes
of mud bury a shanty-town
on the outskirts of Rio;
an ambush at the River Jordan
kills two unidentified Arabs
and one Israeli soldier;
a rich man in Thailand
harbours his murderous son
in a garden of peacocks and palms;
the Pope finally proclaims war
not be waged in God's name;
canisters of uranium 238
are found in tunnels near Kandahar;
my hometown marks its 20th homicide,
a fight at the Friendship Manor;
a teenager dies in a blizzard walking
home from a Christmas party
in just a T shirt and jeans;
a woman from Limerick dies
colliding with a lorry—
winds up in this poem.
An
Indian geologist finds imprints
from rain that fell a billion years past;
small, elliptical craters in sandstone,
barely 5 centimetres in diameter.
I can't help but think of tears.
