Arthur Rimbaud | Illuminations (1872-1874)

AFTER THE FLOOD After the idea of the Flood had receded, A rabbit rested within swaying clover and bellflowers, saying his prayers to a rainbow spied through a spider’s web. Oh what precious stones sunk out of sight, what flowers suddenly stared. On the dirty main drag it was back to business; ships went to sea, piled on the water like a postcard. Blood flowed—at Bluebeard’s, in slaughterhouses, in circuses— wherever God’s mark marred windows. Milk and blood flowed. Beavers dammed. Steam rose from coffee cups in small cafés. The mansion’s windows were still streaming, mourning children within contemplating amazing…