Wind Doth Blow

Beasts from the East

Shall we call them
peacekeepers
and tie coloured ribbons
to their tanks?
Or shall we dare
to call them clowns
and place red noses
on their gunsights?

Shall we call them angels,
line the cheering streets,
throw garlands round the necks
of brocaded generals
braced in motorcades
and offer to polish their wings?
Or shall we fly from these angels
with Kalashnikovs?

Shall we return to our homes
and wait for posters to appear
on walls and bus shelters
outlining new directives,
then queue for bread like sheep
in quiet and orderly accord,
afraid to speak in case
we are overheard?

Shall we keep our heads
down and give in,
step around the shallow graves
worn thin by winter winds and rain,
and in the summer
waft away the flies
from dead hands clasped
in prayer by cable-ties?