Blood-Stained Liberty
The symbol wavering over children as they play-
stripes of red wine poured across a bombarded blue sky,
dazzling explosions from sea to blemished sea...
It's cruel, but it's usual; it's ordinary.
There's no use in hiding behind justification
with microscopic inscriptions of gluttony.
We'll chisel two buildings out of their horizon;
an eye for an eye, then we can call it even.
Erase the inconsistency.
Beat the soil until it bleeds.
Extol the fumes of gasoline.
Imprison, liberate, and then proceed.
Demonstrate the right to bear your nooses.
Does this solve our fear of blatantly losing
control
of our sense of security?