.
Fleet Week
A destroyer by our side
lined with jets
war is so distant from here
we can comfortably clap and scream
our applause at fighter jets
A helicopter plane hovers over the bay
spraying water
making us part of some Hollywood version
of the destruction
we visit on foreign lands
ingraining death so deeply in them
they weave rugs
of tanks and automatic weapons
gone are the plants and animals you might expect
in the weaving of hand died threads.
Gone is everything
but dust
it seems to us
the entire middle east some bombed out
orange powder
blowing in the wind
the cradle of the world
just sand?
we are green and blue burning the petro
in smart little Hondas
waving flags
like fascists but not coming off like fanatics
they are the flag burners
the lighters of effigies
we are the sane
in cubicles of recycled paper
moving numbers across computer screens
calling them debts and investments
green zeros disappear off those screens
like a hand held calculator when you hit the Big C
it’s just gone
and they try to explain tax brackets, dividends,
bonuses and Nasdeq
we nod our head so as not to appear ignorant
clap after the flying toys
with exhausts of red white and blue
we nod and clap
and make excuses for filling up our tanks
throwing plastic in the ocean
torturing taxi drivers accused of terrorism
we tell our kids these big missiles
are cool
even after crying through Vietnam films
“We just do it”
another generation eaten limbless
and witless
with the craziness of fighting
for their country.
Bio:
Cassandra Dallett lives in Oakland, CA. Cassandra is in need of a job and a vacation, but writes poetry and has published at Hip Mama, The Chiron Review, Bleed Me A River, Ascent Aspirations, Criminal Class Review, Nibble, and The Milvia Street Journal among others. Look for more links on cassandradallett.com
(author retains copyright)
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