Dear God of moons, birds, & monsters, / this is an inquiry about the night / machine. It’s come to my attention / that the stars are just reflections / of the city’s narcissistic lights.
The Lieutenant says to search
the mosque, call the bombs,
& be sure to scavenge
all the flesh before leaving.
So one must.
A patrol moves, observes, & secures
but speaks nothing of a mission.