I Ching

I Ching Throw the lines, boys, throw the lines, See what images arise. There is blood upon the lawn. Misfortune. A black man lying in a shallow grave Is beaten with a baseball bat. He moans from deep within, The sound of a dying animal. Throw the lines, boys, throw the lines, See what images arise.. There is rage without control. Danger. A baseball white has now become The avenger of a mortal crime He begs my son and I to call police And all the while, the still black body beats (A rain of blows from which it does not writhe). Throw the lines, boys, throw the lines, See what images arise. There is a limping, Jewish man. Good fortune. The victim of the victim's crime Returns to stop the horror. He is old and has been mugged, Violated by the wounded Black He now limps up to save. I must protect my son From the avenger's ire. I have no phone. I am nauseous and stupefied, Just stand and stare. Throw the lines, boys, throw the lines, See what images arise. The beating stops. There will be death. Carl Estrin