If it’s War, Follow the Money
His documentary is just within reach
though I can’t quite grasp its name
just the impact — Obama had sent a
missile to kill a 16-year-old boy —
all that was left was his hair, like a scalp.
The sins of the father, a radical cleric
paid by the blood of the innocent.
I don’t know if it was reality or propaganda
that launched the scud that killed him.
But it’s early and I am still in my warm bed
when she brings tea, says today’s our day
to change the sheets. Is it guilt, this feeling?
No, I long moved beyond life’s low-slung nets.
I can’t quite get my finger on it.
What I do know is this — I am swimming
in a clear sea while a lot of people are drowning.
While I am hunting down memory within
the soft touch of a duvet (though perhaps it’s hunting me)
someone is dying because war broke out yesterday
on our eastern flank, tanks rolling down
a high street. Something is wrong with the world
& its spreading. My advice? Don’t watch the
news, just follow the money.
Copyright Simon Heathcote 2022
