|
| |
Marquee
Every night a well-dressed puppet keeps score
of the deaths and casualties of the freshest war.
Some nights the tally is low like a soccer match
tonight, it's triple digits for the blue-collar man.
On the scorecard are soldiers, civilians and children
never makers of munitions, or wealthy politicians.
What of the wild beasts and dear family pets
lying twisted and bloodied in virgin bomb pits.
Forgotten in the backwaters of useless battles
a last meal of shrapnel and ear-piercing rattle
Their names never honored on the marquee
but they should be-they all should be.
Copyright ©
Anthony Biaanco
|
|