the beauty of war

by all means
cheer at the victory
of the burning tank
drifting black smoke
burning flesh
horrified faces
the visions of dead men
lying in unnatural positions
bloody
and charred
in the street
for those to step over
like so much rubbish
no matter the color of his skin
or the slant on his speech
his family mourns this night
… and you
in your sanitized boardroom
you all listen
as Yosemite Sam
fabricates reasons
to send more
on a suicide mission
not of choice
but of loyalty
and duty
to country, family, and flag
then go for coffee and lunch
without missing a beat…
please, then, come to my house
and see how your ridiculous choices
and aimless missions
are tearing my family apart
along with so many
the men who can no longer yell
“get some!”
at the thought
or the memory
of a confirmed kill.