A Small Man Orders His War
Proud carrier fleets roam the murmuring world
As Hannibal’s elephants trod Italy –
Grey monsters in search of an enemy
Not yet declared, but with hubris unfurled
In decadence, ruled by smooth ganymedes,
Courtier-generals in their airy cars
Wage resumes’ high above their wars –
So strong in single-malt, so weak in deeds
In his softly-lit bunker the war-god smiles;
His bony hand upon a plastic screen
Commands strange engines, obscure and obscene,
To make a peace through smoking, ashy piles
But empires in the end must die, atone
Their sins, perhaps as trunkless legs of stone.
(Allusions to T. S. Eliot, the Punic Wars, and Shelley)