50 dark shades of standing happy hands
clapping at the furnace fires, hell's gates wide
open, the Lord of Empty Promises
come back, again, to claim his own reward.
He looked out, down, at all the jades he owned
lock stock and barrel, except for the one
who held up a sign J'accuse genocide --
Winston among the two-minute haters.
.
Back in Gaza it's raining Amalekites
the devil's glad tears locusts and brain stems
its loud and no one can hear himself think
thunderclaps, smoking domes, ink still drying.
.
Soon we'll meet in the zone of interest,
out of the ashes, reborn, the Devil's guests.
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