just to console the living, but his tongue
was heavy as a stone inside the grave.
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She hears bombs raze the nunnery.
back to Israel, to reloadnew bombs sent from America.Blinding smoke burns in her eyesand shrouds the limbs of terrorists,boys and girls from grammar schoolwho in the spring first learned to count.
(Serbia 1999)
How to explain?Suddenlyshe lies in painamid debris―orphaned fingers,blood-stained blouse―a scream that lingersin her razed house.A girl who talksto bleeding palms―around her blocksand carpet bombs.2.A pilot shroudsthe truth and smilesamid the cloudsthree hundred milesback home to base.He cannot tellwhich was whose face.High over hell,his stealth’s black wingsstill mock the night,and fallen thingsin morning light.
Ten thousand cuckolds in Iceland
Merkel lifts her heavy hand,lecturing on conscience, wedsit with betrayal, giving a shoveto Deutschland’s honest working poor,demanding, in the name of love,that Poland and Hungary take more.Sobieski turns inside his grave:“There will be no Europe to save.”
Perhaps there’s mercy in the skies,
The tears of horror in their eyesreflect the fury of the sunlifting the curtain over dawn.They know that Orlov’s Reds were there:a priest lies bludgeoned on the lawn,and Christian Spain lies struck at prayer.
This is the last goodbye, the final salute.
the ensign is assisted down the chuteso neither flank nor limb can catch a snag.Then at last his sunken eyes see light,and he sets foot into the promised land.Effulgent plankton there redeems his sight,Elysium of bright seaweed and sand.How glorious his underwater grave,even though above, the stone-faced captainsees a guilty spectre in each wave,and dejection…
When we entered the burning city
A child’s hand dangled from a scorched treeand the twisted wreckage of a busmocked the stillness of the sky.Gunner gagged, Ski scratched his head,neither understanding whyhe had to liberate the dead.