POEM FOR GREAT MEN

you either choose the war or

you have it

forced upon you

you eat the babies

either way

you give the orders

to sew bigger flags

you tell your wife to

sing those old songs louder

someone will need to pay for

these corpses left rotting

on your front lawn

one hundred thousand sons

and daughters will need to be

gunned down

in distant villages

if this logic

was your mistress

you would fuck her

until she bled from the eyes