This satellite view of Concepción
Volcano on my monitor appears
a cadaver’s brown, shriveled breast, caught on
fire deep within, smoke pouring from vast tears
in its nipple. We start to see lahars,
like molten concrete, cover villages
below, turning them to smoldering stars.
See that first one? Ortega’s entourage
is there, I guess. Or one just to the left,
depending on whether they stopped to eat
lunch. Our cruise missle’s nuclear head kept
the faith, a bull’s-eye in the crater’s seat.
Too bad we lost so many innocents.
Don’t ask the amount of money we spent.
Roger Armbrust
June 3, 2007
