On a Feast Day

they banish the cameras to do this the news goes dark the news cuts to the shining hall of shining faces beneath the rockets red glare what unholy betrothal of lust and war begat this moment when the lens of the hour

is a gunner’s sight aimed at the child in the rubble of a former home who dares to call after a missing friend, come out come out wherever you are the bombs bursting in air what truth is this what night their eyes the children

have cousins who from the opulent lawns on the other side before the chancellors of progress scream because they still have breath to give and they fly it to the upper reaches of the towers to interrupt a runaway feast

breaking news their cry the news goes dark quick mute the drums mute the mouths easy their crime to dare protection of these least their trespass their refusal to wait until the tanks circle back the temple veil splits o god they call why––

and the names of the next murdered child to see in those faces themselves to hold to those towers a mirror long enough to heat some other flame above those unhearing talking heads they call those names

the living script for a new chorus, defiant wings against the winding updraft of this heat, eyes on the ground, on the babies the lift of them the song the theft they are skinny they call wide-eyed in the night until they stop

the tanks roll
the bombs continue
the children are in pieces now
the children are beaten
for disrupting the peace
more come

singing