Slumped in a prickly armchair
on a humid summer night,
I listened dully to dogs
barking with brainless pleasure
far away and in this street
under the Victory flags.
The bronze eagles with spread wings,
flightless on walls and porches,
reflected the light from stars,
as my slow imaginings
moved between foreign corpses
and these Stars and Stripes of ours.
Sweaty, itching, impotent,
I scratched my shirtless shoulder
and reached for another beer —
like a listless President
dreaming a new world order
from idle thoughts and hot air.
Or like someone long inured
to the crafted, public lies
that lull the popular mind
into easy disregard
for the coarse realities
of imperial command.
The Heroes were coming home —
but not to me in my chair
dogged by barks and disarray;
"Welcome!" the flags flapped, "Welcome!
you fought for all we hold dear
in the mighty USA." |
| Copyright © 1991 by Tony Connor. Appears courtesy of the author. |
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