Do Drones Dream Of Electric War
Crimes?
They strip the earth
of minerals
to fill the skies with metal
birds.
Minerals drop explosive minerals
onto organic
matter with faces and feelings,
and eyes are ripped from
heads
and fingers are ripped from hands
and limbs are
ripped from torsos
and insides are ripped outside
from
bodies once cuddled and breastfed by mothers
to splash
upon the cold concrete
and expire beneath the stars
of
a bemused universe
and return to their base
elements.
The flying mineral machines cruise on
without
looking back.
And the news man says,
"Breaking story,
Jibby Jorpson love triangle?!?
Also, this common
household product will melt your children
because you're
a bad parent
who couldn't sit through one little
commercial break.
But first: is this baby orangutan a
transsexual?
Find out why outrage addicts are
outraged
after these important advertisements from
Northrop Grumman."
And the stars say,
"We are more
ancient than you can fathom
and more distant than you can
comprehend,
yet we are made of the same matter,
and we
rejoice in your part in this dance,
and as your elements
return to the swirling cosmos
we love you more than you
can possibly imagine."
And the mothers
say,
"Why?
Why, why, why, why, why?
Why are his
insides now on the outside
of the body I once cuddled and
breastfed?
Why did explosives fall from the sky
from a
bird made of minerals dug from the living earth?
Where
are his arms?
Where is his skin?
I need it so I can
kiss him
and get him ready for school."
And the mineral
machines say nothing
as their numbers grow until they
fill the sky
so that nobody can see the stars
anymore,
and we all forget where we came from,
and the
Bank Boys finally look up and say,
"There, that's much
better."
And the living earth accepts all returners
as
they burst in ever increasing numbers
beneath the
circling metal birds
of a blackened sky
beneath unseen
stars
who watch and wonder
if we'll ever
remember
where we came
from.