‘Suicide Nets’ and Other Poetry by Reid McGrath The Society September 25, 2014 Poetry 1 Comment Lamenting our Complicity in the Installation of Suicide Nets I met a “bum” outside an Apple store holding a sign which read: “I’m taking bets.” “On what?” I said. “On something that’d abhor maybe the most insensate, calloused vets.” I curiously said to tell me more. He had no problem, being garrulous: “In China, in the dorms, the employees will jump the window to forget the fuss of toiling with iPhones— O the bane of treating people like robotic bees! I bet that, from now on, you won’t forget the pain resultant from another’s gain. You will envision a suicide net and you’ll shop different cause we’re all to blame.” Featured Image: Nets hung to prevent suicides outside an Apple factory in China. An underground Catholic mass in China. Notes from the Underground 1. The priest is wearing a white vestment, offering Mass, juxtaposed with the Cross. Moles aren’t adept as us, when it comes to living this way, hiding… We are the Underground, subterranean, swept by cruel, Communist China, into the gutters, Church. There’re old newspapers on the wall. I have kept this hole, my basement, for this purpose, since Mao. Sirs, please don’t forget about us. Since Stephen was stoned we’ve been persecuted around the world. The curs, if they knew about this, would castrate me. We’re owned like cattle. But in the corner, our Holy King, Ghost— “Behold the Lamb—” arrives like a blade that’s honed! 2. Lord, I’m not worthy to have you under ceiling! Our world is black and white. There is bad and there’s good. In 1949 our ecclesiastic ring, our infrastructure, the Catholic Church which had stood, was infiltrated by the Communists. Expelled by the hundreds, were missionaries, priests. The flood— red—in 1957, swelled fatly. Felled like trees, put in prison-labor camps, were faithful, peaceable—but, alas, theistic—Catholics, held and brainwashed, tortured, aborted, sterilized. “Cull the religious!” was— O Lord — IS! — their motto. The thing with China, though, is worldly. You make my soul full. 3. I am very old. Life is very long— Yea right. There is darkness and there’s light. He holds the Wafer high. It’s like a moon. My girl wears a shawl. To right my grandchildren, her sons, reverently serve Father. They stand. My daughter and niece kneel on an old bed. The striped sheets crinkle. My wife’s shawl is darkness. Her sister kneels next to her. (I love my family.) Head is sober with repentance. Who said Religion is the opium of the people? Who had said that? I read it somewhere. In China it’s a sin to read anything they don’t tell you to. The fight goes on, Caesar v. Christ, who do you think will win? 4. In ’57 the Chinese Patriotic Catholic Association was formed. It rejects the Holy See. It was largely therapeutic keeping, even, this new church around. The effect, they hoped, would be like a city park: You couldn’t take Nature away completely. You had to respect human inklings. One needs green. One shouldn’t take God away entirely. One should be god! There was corruption; but the stouthearted wouldn’t be duped. So we burrowed…. In the end, the rod of the Reds, persecution, martyrdom, the stick is nil. Our lighted hole’s palatial with God! NOTE: The Society considers this page, where your poetry resides, to be your residence as well, where you may invite family, friends, and others to visit. Feel free to treat this page as your home and remove anyone here who disrespects you. Simply send an email to email@example.com. Put “Remove Comment” in the subject line and list which comments you would like removed. The Society does not endorse any views expressed in individual poems or comments and reserves the right to remove any comments to maintain the decorum of this website and the integrity of the Society. Please see our Comments Policy here. Share this:Click to share on Twitter (Opens in new window)Click to share on Facebook (Opens in new window)Click to print (Opens in new window)Click to share on LinkedIn (Opens in new window)Click to share on WhatsApp (Opens in new window)Click to email this to a friend (Opens in new window)Click to share on Pinterest (Opens in new window) One Response james sale September 29, 2014 Like Notes from the Underground – the frenetic sweep of the lines, and yet the way the rhyme pattern holds it all in – superb! Reply Leave a Reply Cancel ReplyYour email address will not be published.CommentName* Email* Website Notify me of follow-up comments by email. Notify me of new posts by email. This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.