Friday, July 20, 2012

THERE WAS A COUP TODAY IN PARAGUAY

by Jose A. Alcantara

Paraguay's ousted president, Fernando Lugo, denounces 'parliamentary coup' 
--The Guardian 24 June 2012

and the hummingbirds are sticking out their tongues
and the guanacos are gathering their spit

and the peccaries are throwing off their collars
and the ocelots are sharpening their claws

and the tapir’s lips are all in a snarl
and the howler monkeys are starting to howl

and everyone is more or less alarmed
than the capybara

who sleeps with only his nose above water
in spite of the disgusting stench.


Jose Alcantara is a former calculus teacher who recently converted to poetry after a quasi-mystical experience in a graveyard involving Dante, a dead woman named Guadalupe, a raven, melting frost, and some church bells.  His poems have appeared in Little Patuxent Review, Sugar Mule, Palimpsest, and Four & Twenty.  He currently lives in Western Colorado where he works in an art gallery and also in one of the few remaining independent bookstores. He is married and has an eight-year-old son.
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