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The Elephant Shooters
by Ken HarnischI watched the elephant shooters descend
In the gilded lift, and smile their dull and vapid smiles
And I believed them when they said they were
Now heirs to reams of wealth, unbridled,
(And apparently untaxed), and they would
Now be emperors upon their father’s throne.
Handsome snipers, the pair of them
But not so versed in the shooting arts
That they need worry, should the nation
Ever issue a clarion call to arms or sacrifice,
That its alarms would ever disturb their sleep
Or cause a stir in their counting rooms.
To die, wrapped in the flag
Or buried on a hillside in hallowed ground
Is fine for some, but these little gods would tell you
(But not aloud), that dying for one’s country
And filling its social coffers is grist for
Other People’s Children and not,
No, never, the anointed ones.
03/03/2017 Author's Note: I don't think anything more needs to be said.
Posted on 03/03/2017
Copyright © 2024 Ken Harnisch
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Linda Fuller on 03/03/17 at 10:05 PM No, you covered it...and eloquently. |
| Posted by Chris Sorrenti on 03/05/17 at 04:58 PM Evocative, well expressed piece, Ken. Unfortunately, I'm not familiar with whatever inspired it so had difficulty getting my bearings. Kudos just the same. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 03/10/17 at 04:51 AM Ah, 'royalty,' what an odd and selfish world you live in. It needed to be said and you said it so well. |
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