Friday, June 05, 2009

Angels ( a poem for many voices )

This is the one
whetting the blade of the stilleto
long past midnight.

This was the one
perched grinning over the entrance
to Dachau.

This is the one
who waits patiently
on the grassy knoll.

This was the one
who cast the napalm net
over My Lai.

This is the one
who lines prisoners up on the edge
of a pit of lies.

This was the one
who spread his wings
across Halabja.

This is the one,
a pregnant woman in his cross hairs, whispering,
'One bullet - two hits.'

This was the one
who breathed a veil of phosphorus
through Jabilya.

This is the one
whose intricate mind fashions
the IED.

This was the one
with a baseball bat, steel toecaps
and a Rangers scarf.

This is the one
sitting in an office, estimating the profit
on each individual shell.

This was the one
we never saw

This is the one
with a bony finger poised
over a button.

The picture is of a war memorial (!) in a park
in the centre of Shrewsbury.

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