Another Poem. This was after a radio news item I heard and it’s called : One Sunday

One Sunday

On a clear autumn day in Texas a drone pilot sits before a screen of virtual reality

looking forward to the end of his shift and driving home along wide open roads

beneath the stillness of a late afternoon sky.

He will have a beer on his porch after working all day at targeting play,

droning on the Taliban when, by collateral default, he perhaps annihilated a workingman, woman, child or wedding plan.

“Ah but,” said the sergeant in charge, “their despicable ways of writing graffiti with the blood of a severed limb taken from the victim.”

Later, at home, the drone pilot sleeps in his corner before going to work again tomorrow and

those who will be droned tomorrow also sleep, in another corner, as do the people

who said that drones were a good idea 


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