Almost nine in the evening and the class is wrapping up
Nietzsche’s Genealogy of Morals, debating the authenticity of

the eagle defined by his devouring of the lamb, and one student
declares that the Dionysian mode must then be the model example,

the practice of life as body and pleasure, not being a cockroach, after all,
and another asks hesitantly about the solid line between good and evil,

and the class tumbles all over itself to pacify her that the line
may not really be there, after all, who is to begrudge the eagle his prey,

his cruel beak, so the student examines her book again,
the clear black slash in the text: good/evil, her handwriting

inherited from her older sister, who is working late, about to get mugged,
bruised, missing a shoe, and it will be her son in the kitchen as she enters

the apartment, and he will close the door for her, against the rain
already beginning, the dark animals scuttling for shelter.

Tagged ,

One thought on “TPWWRCDSHWWD:

  1. tetgrajo says:

    this is beautiful. as is genealogy.

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