The Generals
The Generals
You have seen them
nodding benevolently like
plump German butchers in small
shoppes, carelessly stripping pink
flesh from the bones of sheep.
They smile, a polite bow,
courteous generals in a civilized
war of rules, displaying their
purple hearts, adorned with the parsley
slogans of God and country.
Have you noticed that they
keep the faces of the butchered
ones covered up with star spangled
sheets, while mad bands play their
songs of brave innocence?
Perhaps so we will not see their
eyes staring back at us, or hear
their cries in the chill dawn, or
worse still, that we know
whose children they are.
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