December Movie In July


The curtain opens.

It is dawn somewhere.

A boy pries open the

door of what used to be

his home and stumbles into


a rubbled landscape of

what used to be his village

and his family’s olive trees

uprooted by bulldozers

and treaties pledging peace.

Teacups, photographs and

his mother’s eyeglasses crunch

beneath his feet like eggshells.

He hears the drone of helicopters and

the hammering of plowshares

being beaten into AK-47s

and hospital beds and

the voice of a soprano

singing a cappella Somewhere

Over The Rainbow.



At midday in a desert

under an indifferent sun

three small dots of green appear:

The first two are the

sneakers a little girl is

wearing. The third spot

is the green shirt worn

by a boy in an oil-on-canvas

portrait she carries

in the basket of the

bicycle she pedals

as she follows the

dust clouds of

regiments of theologians

retreating from the

latest siege of Bethlehem

toward a mountain in

the distance where

one of their Holy Books

insists eternity begins.


Twilight curls like smoke

into darkness and the singer’s

voice quavers into silence

as the rainbow evaporates

and the boy and girl embrace

inside an empty room.

Snow sifts down around

them in dark red flakes the

size of olive leaves. The

throb of helicopter

gunships grows louder.

She gives him the portrait and

he gives her the apple he has bitten.

Outside in the fields women

are harvesting bones.

Commandos slide down cables from

the gunships as the snow deepens.

The curtain drops slowly as.

the audience heaves a sigh and

everyone goes back to sleep.

© 2015 J.M.Keating

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