The Bereaved were outfitted
In their standard black costumes and stood before the soldiers
Who bordered the Officer’s casket in Red, White & Blue.
A hot mic captured the priest, presiding over the funeral,
Take a drink from his water bottle and announce, “BLECH!
That tastes like it came from the tap.”
The soldiers ignored the priest.
They appeared to ignore everyone
Except their orders.
Rifle tips balanced along their clavicles and the priest
“Your gestures remind me of the Signs of the Cross.”
He cracked his knuckles.
“I don’t think that’s an accident.”
As a nation,
we struggle with domestic politics.
As an Empire,
it’s much easier
to impose your will
under the guise of liberty.
I was walking downtown
when a gnat flew into my eye.
I blinked and killed it.