Ethiopia

Granite is our very

final canvas. Everything

that’s chiselled

lasts forever. Or at least it

should. With the price that

Aaron’s Monuments will charge,

you'd think it would outlive

Mount Sinai’s tablets.

Moses broke the initial

pair in tantrum. Whatever

became of the second

I can’t recall. Maybe hanging with

the Ark in Addis Ababa.

No, not the boat on

Ararat, but the one of

Covenant. Noah’s supposedly

cringing from his rainbow’s

appropriation. Why does

God need reminding

anyway? Spectrums have sod all

to do with floods. Take your

Oakleys off and see.

The splash of sun & water

shouldn’t mix. But it does

when you’re a boy.

All can be prismatic.

Look before you spring

on through the sprinkler.

The poor man’s

swimming pool.

You thought you had one

coming, no one to sneer at

your ribs in the shallow

end; the shield of

a backyard hedge.

When you’re skinny,

they tell you to eat a

sandwich, as if you never

have. You’ll cling to your

shirt like a rail—

11 feet aloft, a girl who’s afloat

like a dory, a sinner after

40 days of rain, scorning

when she’s nothing

left to lose.

As for the obelisk I

mentioned, carve it in

haiku. Come up

with something grand.

Scratch your noggin

till it bleeds. I’ll be sleeping cozy

in my coffin. Let you sweat

for a change. Find out just

how easy a poem can be, with only

the flies to read, a mantis to

offer prayer.

Andreas Gripp

January 27, 2026

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