Mendacity; The Drone
To mend is at the center of it, to make whole the rip in the world
by stitching it up with lies; there are never enough
for all the rents and hollowness, the empty caverns
of unpleasant facts. Menelaus, that ancient king,
had need of lies as smooth as Helen’s back,
his family’s adultery, incest and cannibalism
much on his mind, his own wife’s faithlessness and the war . . .
And not just kings but scribes
who wish the world were otherwise,
and make it so with lies.
From ten thousand feet it watches and waits,
a sharpshooter with a heart of oil.
From ten thousand feet death opens its door,
levitates like a cloud of dust in Sodom
until finding the merchant in his souk
and the passengers in their car
with a suddenness, addictive and sure,
God’s hand rests and kills them all.