Poem: Down To This

 

Down To This

 

galores of vogues

in kingdoms of thuggish pride,

a trip down fancy boulevards

 

to swill from posh stores,

hostage to twists  

inside the maneuvers of kings.

 

and the logics of toadeater-senators

who authorize an absurd

and now permanent fence.

 

“we don’t learn our lessons,”

the historians piffle,

hamstrung by a zealotry of rage.

 

it has come down to this:

 

the entrails of sacred animals,

eagles, pheasants, lions and hawks,

rummaged for sortilege, symbol and omen,

 

so many grand, trumped-up

prophecies and crusades;

and the thick stacks of troops

 

layered in roads and crossroads

 for battles of conquest,

bloodlines buried in dust,

 

far below the latest, biggest, richest castles,

taller than anything before,

high and haughty above those graves,

 

yes, more magnificent and wondrous,

eager for the most beautiful and righteous,

the most perfect and final war.

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