Victim Victorious Poem by Robert Rorabeck

Victim Victorious



You delivered the bomb
The last summer,
Your pilots destroyed our civilization,
Our inland empire;
Your older siblings showed you how.
Even your parents were encouraging—
Legion, your eyes blazed with napalm
And my villagers went screaming
As I learned you could call down angel’s
Murder in suburban parks
Where sunlight runs in singing rivers.
You laid open the bomb-bay doors of your soul,
The skating rinks down to the pit of Hell—
You cut off the lights
And shut down the rides; Laughing,
You only stopped the massacre
To back over me. Injured, I ran away—
Pieces of me are still falling off from the
Radioactive breakup—There are great holes in
Me where sky creeps through,
Like showpieces of your macabre crafts,
The arts of genocide, the red canvas.
Banshee, you wiped out my entire ancestry.
My infrastructure is destroyed;
It will take generations to recover. Until then
I devolve into the dark spaces horded by monsters,
While you drive around practicing ventriloquisms
Of your coworkers and neighbors, Brutus
Singing how you’ve long since forgotten me,
Cutting your hair, courting your Mark Anthony,
Teasing him with a parade
Of your body in our bed;
The grave where my civilization lays ghosted.

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Robert Rorabeck

Robert Rorabeck

Berrien Springs
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