- The clouds and the stars didn't wage this war
- the brooks gave no information
- if the mountain spewed stones of fire into the river
- it was not taking sides
- the raindrop faintly swaying under the leaf
- had no political opinions
- and if here or there a house
- filled with backed-up raw sewage
- or poisoned those who lived there
- with slow fumes, over years
- the houses were not at war
- nor did the tinned-up buildings
- intend to refuse shelter
- to homeless old women and roaming children
- they had no policy to keep them roaming
- or dying, no, the cities were not the problem
- the bridges were non-partisan
- the freeways burned, but not with hatred
- Even the miles of barbed-wire
- stretched around crouching temporary huts
- designed to keep the unwanted
- at a safe distance, out of sight
- even the boards that had to absorb
- year upon year, so many human sounds
- so many depths of vomit, tears
- slow-soaking blood
- had not offered themselves for this
- The trees didn't volunteer to be cut into boards
- nor the thorns for tearing flesh
- Look around at all of it
- and ask whose signature
- is stamped on the orders, traced
- in the corner of the building plans
- Ask where the illiterate, big-bellied
- women were, the drunks and crazies,
- the ones you fear most of all: ask where you were.