As a nation we shall not forget
Those small people whose black eyes boiled and burst,
Whose flesh hissed in the heat of our artificial sun.
Some flew like scattered sparrows sailing,
Black and too surprised to die
Before their fried skin
Steamed away their consciousness.
It was the angry flame of a god
Bereft of care for humanity
That we wielded to slam finality
On a cruel era, and we failed.
We still hunger after righteous revenge.
Thousands delight each night in flickering shadow murders.
We buttress confidence to dispatch with lesser tools
Those who offend our sensibilities,
But hold god fire in our back pocket
And quail in waiting Thor’s hammer to descend.