Psycho-Babble Writing Thread 425463

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poem ... Black Blood in the Sandbox

Posted by Atticus on December 6, 2004, at 22:40:03

Black Blood in the Sandbox

Had a barbecue in Fallujah,
Can still smell the smoking meat,
Black blood in the sandbox,
Kid’s bones crunch under the feet
Of a soldier sobbing softly
In an abattoir, once a street,
Blowing grit clings to his guts,
Glistening coils that steam with heat,
Draped across his khaki camo,
Gray python in a hipbone tree,
Slips to his knees, a supplicant,
Raised arms sway like windblown wheat,
Cries out across the planet to
The new son he won’t meet,
Topples to the dusty asphalt,
Life and death both smelling sweet.

Had a barbecue in Crawford,
Can still smell the smoking meat,
Shredded pork on china platters,
Green grass soft under the feet
Of a president grinning broadly
As he basks in the defeat
Of his enemies in Fallujah,
Their ghost-in-the-night retreat,
Sinks his teeth into the sandwich
Stuffed with sacrificial beast,
Drips sauce on his khaki Dockers
Savoring his tangy treat,
Wishes his assembled family,
Parents and kids, bon appetit,
Inhales deep of the charred carcass
And life never smelled so sweet.
-- Atticus

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