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Iraq

I sit strapped into a chair
machines clicking and clucking around me.
In the desert sands
I see a woman, she doesn't see me
In a black robe, she stands
covered hair to toenail.

A little boy plays in the dirt,
clutching a toy airplane
and a G.I. Joe.
He turns to her and laughs.
She smiles with sad eyes.

Out in the shadows next to them
I see flickers.
Uniforms on men
guns in the hands of boys
boys made up as machines
at the behest of ghouls
seeking black gold and white power.

I sense terror, I struggle to move
the straps tighten.
I sense pain, I scream to warn
the machines cluck louder.
I sense horror, my mind numbs
the soldiers move closer
still closer.

- Sri Subramanian
(Jan 2003)