by Martha Landman
". . . the world has moved a little." --Phil Kafcaloudes
Peace-time peasants are born ignorant of
the Pill, the Apple Mac and breast implants
Looking like ordinary men they coin money
from vodka, umbrellas and pocket knives. In
honesty, they work for the good of the people.
Iconic, as Gatling and Colt, their Siberian son
receives the Order of Saint Andrew, wrapped in
a Mozambique flag, a hero of socialist labour.
There are no regrets in his photograph or
in poetic dreams buried in shallow graves
where the counterfeit child soldiers of Africa
pray that their crayon boxes be filled with
enough bullets and Big Macs to crack all the
cocaine plants of the world during short break.
If Russia had a Bill Gates they would patent
him Kalashnikov and be proud as a mother
They would let him battle Bryansk and Brody
and decorate him with more than a lawnmower.
Martha Landman lives and writes in tropical North Queensland, Australia. Her most recent work appeared in Poetry 24, Every Day Poets.