There is no history of accord,
only one of cruelty—
if the goat calms the stallion,
then debtors will clip the wires
or thrash the thick cypress fence
to steal the goat—
if the stallion loses by a leg,
the debtors will be jailed—
if the prisoners riot,
the guards will quell violence
with riot gas and side-handle batons—
Still, imagine how droll
the high school textbooks rewritten
to chronicle an affable people—
They shook hands and massaged each other’s shoulders,
they dressed in corduroy pantaloons
to serenade each other from balconies—
Imagine the cruelties we might have to imagine
to keep ourselves engaged—
snakebites, beds of nails,
mild electric shocks—