The War Abroad, by Alix Emery
By James O’Brien
Do you remember that time,
When you were a child,
And now you kill children.
The blank necessity,
The hollow bark of orders,
Your stare as you deliver.
Maybe there has never been a time,
Maybe as we pick cadavers,
From smoking ruins,
As we tally up,
Our victories,
We count up the dividend,
That ghouls’ table of the inexplicable,
A reckoning of inhumanity
We don’t even qualify.
