Collateral Damage

We’re the collateral

generation. Don’t mind the dead.

They have a habit

of getting in the way.

It’s the terrorists

we’re after. Next time

stay out of the

line—not of fire

but of food. We vow that we’ll

be gone as soon as they.

Let’s take

an oath of blood. Burn

our wrists with wax.

Swear a pinky

swear on bended knees.

To our God—not to yours.

Only the lost claim

He’s the same.

You’re not among

the lost, are you? Calling

for your kitten in the chaff?

Andreas Gripp

RF Image