Killing Reason
Whatever claims are made, whatever truth
Or otherwise, whatever the just cause,
Whatever the national slight, pause, just pause.
In which column will patriotic youth
Be accounted, as credit or debit,
When their uniforms prove ill-matched to turn
Bullets and shrapnel, too readily burn
In the heat of battle? And does the writ
Of death run to those huddled in cellars
And shelters who, by dint of birth, are deemed
As being other and so, by default, damned
To be totalled by collateral tellers?
Whenever it is the killing season,
The very first fatality is reason.
D.A.
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