With a belly full of metal
and no neck
that turns to lock
you in a melting gaze—
lake of Babylonian honey
with its thick hypnotic rippling—
in the crook
of your arm,
it reminds you of your infant
only for its weight,
its familiar size,
as you cradle it.
This missile, its ten pounds
of chilling blindness
rises nightly
to swim in your copper dreams
where your child plays
with mangled beekeepers
and those surviving too long,
who sleep fitfully,
always between
two screams.
From a blog: “The Acturus T-20 drone can carry two small 10 pound laser guided missiles that can turn any target into pasta sauce with the click of a mouse.”
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