The great bed of the world <br />arching over graves <br />over Babi Yar <br />with its multitude of bones, <br />with battalions of screams <br />frozen in a concrete glacier, <br />with pillows of earth <br />and comforters of green grass <br />covering all that dead flesh. <br /> <br />Dead flesh shall live again- <br />a dream in god's endless night- <br />rise green out of the earth <br />as grass, as trees, as tomato stalks <br />bearing a bright red fruit <br />and the feuds of man-and womankind <br />shall be fed again from the same seeds: <br />the tomato, the mythic pomegranate, the biblical apple <br />all rising from the grass that springs <br />out of the screams of stopped mouths. <br /> <br />Sometimes I dream <br />that my bed is built over a ravine, <br />the ravine of Babi Yar, any ravine <br />where thousands died <br />and I moan in pleasure to propitiate the earth, <br />to make fruit ripen <br />and trees wave green leaves like banners <br />all because love can touch me still. <br /> <br />It is never enough to create. <br />The beast must feed its meat teeth too. <br />Out of the screaming mouth of earth <br />we feed the grass that covers <br />all our beds. <br /> <br />I wish I did not know all that I know. <br />Galaxies spin, grass grows, and people kill. <br />We are the only race to murder for our dreams- <br />and not for hunger, <br />hungering for dreams<br /><br />Erica Jong<br /><br />http://www.poemhunter.com/poem/the-bed-of-the-world/
