"Cruel patriotism

Blue and gold stars hanging delicately

By a razor-thin thread

In the window,

A battlefield on the bedrooms

A family lost, torn asunder,

Amidst another man's war

Children clinging to Fathers' legs like tiny spiders

'Daddy, Daddy!'

And mothers of soldiers, with a prayer in their eye

Saying

'Son, you make me proud'

But forget not the military wives, mourning for

Husbands that are yet to be dead,

Lying awake and feverish, silent as stone

In their too-big beds

Wondering, Worrying

Angry with a hasty President

And a god that never listens,

They are the ones who listen to their children cry,

Though they are scarcely

Old enough

To talk,

They sit, heavy as a mistake in the morning light,

In front of

Blinking TV screens, cracking sobs that

Shake

Fragile bodies

Held together by letters,

Phone-card lovers

With hearts melting on car dashboards;

'18 months isn't that bad, right?'"

1:43pm 9/14/2005