For this flight
Have we enough food
To nourish our dark and horrid famine?
Have we plenty water
To ease across the razor’s barren edge?
Have we sufficient breath
To coax this; our collusion deep within?
Have we ample shelter
From this; our own deceitful tomb?
(Truth. Have we none?)
Who needs the goddamned truth?
Lies, for us, are more valuable,
Made to easily pass through
The takeoff's devising eyes.
It’s the clever packing of truth and lies
Into a single carry-on that is the trick.
It won’t turn the plane’s shadow into flame.
It won’t cut the neck of our slipshod freedom.
It won’t bring massive terror to our shores.
(Terror? Freedom? Flame?)
Yes! Lies! You goddamned traitor!
Lies; packed together as one
They more easily sound round
Edging near enough to truth.
Copyright © 2006 mrp