What We Did

by Tom Davidson


We spoke of children regularly shot
In occupied territories. Of the old
Clapped into shabby nursing homes to rot.
Of how the Afghan winters are quite cold.

We talked of rife metastasizing AIDS
Sprawling like foliage. Of clitoral
Excisions in the sub-Saharan glades.
Of gill-armed headless tots at Chernobyl.

We said it really was a lousy thing
That Tienanmen's Chinese were still in cells;
That Pol Pot died in bed; that there were rings
Of wire, barbed, round Palestinian hills.

We said things just could not go on this way.
And what we did was have some more paté.