Why Are We in Iraq?
by gnimbley the gnome

"Simply stated, there is no doubt that Saddam Hussein now has weapons of mass destruction." Dick Cheney, Aug. 26, 2002

... MySpace ... your face ... strawberry jam ...
... cocaine ... toy train ... the sign of the hand ...

Mary Jane Portman
pours a cup of coffee
her six month boy
lies mesmerized by
a dangly mobile
quiet for a spell
infants can be so tiring
so tired
she closes her eyes
and dreams

In sheltered virgin vale
earth darkly pregnant
newly frozen stone
dusted musk
dried blood
sparse men in tattered skins
bellow in thoughtless abandon
unarticulated rage
mindless fermented desire

... labor laws ... buzz saws ... convertible bonds ...
... earth day ... school play ... Solo, Hans ...

Mary Jane stirs
the coffee cools
the baby reaches out
the mobile dances away

Black swathed men
strike with fist
and then with stone
they discover sticks
and sharpened bone

Mary Jane weeps gently
in her dream
she mouths voiceless words
screams silent prayers
turns without volition
walks without direction
lies without lying down

... organic beef ... coral reef ... home delivered pizza ...
... high school ... girlz rule ... Secret Embrace demi bra ...

A man of no description
stands at his pulpit
glares down sins
arrayed before him
in their fine Sunday clothes

"The heathen
destroys all that is fine and pure
The heathen
denies God's grace is ours
The heathen
kills our children
The heathen
destroys our dreams
The heathen
blasphemes"

"This is our land
You are our people
These are our things
We belong
They do not
We are justified"

... cds ... dvds ... officer friendly ...
... pancakes ... milk shakes ... snowboards and skis ...

Mary Jane Portman stirs
her baby sings
the mobile sleeps

Dark men crawl
a twisted bloody tree
moistened with dark black mud
crimsoned with forgotten faces
IED panthers lurk
in the branches
and the streams
reach their long tentacle arms
towards the infant song
draw closer
closer
closer

Mary Jane cries
and a voice asks
what she would give
what she would trade
for her boy's life
and she says anything
everything

... garage band ... helping hand ... grand theft auto ...
... Sponge Bob ... corn on the cob ... '82 Bordeaux

centuries of dust
volcano ash
bury and
obliterate
the struggle that consumed
the sparse dark men

only broken bone
hand chipped rock fragments
remain to be dug
displayed in a glass entombed museum
long lines of school children
a tentacle stream
file pass featureless artifacts
already forgotten voice intones
the long pale grocery list
of what we used to be

... date night ... stage fright ... fireworks on the river ...
... tequila ... cha cha ... frankincense and myrrh

Mary Jane awakes
her boy sleeps
the mobile stands guard
she sips coffee cold
haunted
by slowly dissipating emotions

She wonders what she dreamt
what anxiety grips her soul
did it tell her what to do
to do right by her boy
what school he should attend
what life he should lead
how she can keep him safe

Mary Jane washes her cup out
in the kitchen sink
dries it with a towel
places it upon the counter
where it waits
she reaches down
the boy's eyes open
his mouth smiles
she brings him to her breast
and considers then her choices
for their nightly repast

harder choices are the stuff
of future days;


~
Copyright © 2006 - gnimbley the gnome
Published: 8/25/06   ·  Author's Page