THOSE LITTLE GIRLS
let us not
be too hasty
to condemn
let us not
rush to conclusions
little girls now
all of them I do
believe under
the age of ten
but give them
another ten, twenty years
who knows, who can forsee,
what they might not
grow up as,
horribly change into
who can show me
their note books,
their sjetch pads
assure me
there everything is
as the weepy weak press
are telling us
pictures of Mom and Dad
the sun, the tree, a house,
a swing, a cat
themselves
in their best dress
little poems and prayers
celebrating life
and love
like normal little girls
our Western girls
and not, as I am more
inclined to believe,
curses and tirades
calls for
a world full
of destruction
and death
drawings of drones, pictures
of missiles raining down
vengeance on
bad bad cities
ballistic rockets shooting
up into space
with (drawn in red
red
blood red crayon)
blood red noses
and fiery tales
who
can dispute this
deny
this possibility?
the evidence
disappeared
poems 2 die for 