The New Cannon Fodder Poem by Tony Jennett

Under a polycarbonate cover of riot shields
Like tadpole martyrs in a jam-jar
The new recruits float into the firing line
On a massive communal teardrop
Terrified.
Is mammy's arm round your shoulders protection or goad?
As you march, cowering under the hate
To The Holy Cross front door.
Where wicked men blaspheme thee,
Thy Sacred Mother of the Word Incarnadine
And uncle Tom Cobley and all?

What travesty of justification is this?
To use a child, any child, any wee scrap
Of scarcely thinking progeny,
Any lump of procreated image of God,
Gushing from this Vale of Tears
As a weapon?

Suffer, you little children, as you come unto Him
We forgive you nought.
For of such
Is the Kingdom of Hell