Hear the barn owl screech

An antiwar poem

The boy tosses his cigarette to the ground and
      prepares the lifeless drone —
unclipping its wings like a pet barn owl.
He dons the glasses, synchronizing his soul
      causing the owl to leap into the air 
           with heavenly ascent —
stretching its wings, free, magnificent.
It sees rodents in the field.
            RODENTS. I see those fucking RODENTS
             gnawing our food
             soiling the land with their
                  explosive droppings
             I must FEED
             they will have children,
                  then children of children,
                           then children of children 
                                of children.
The owl swoops down, 
     majestically with perfect precision.
BZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ
At the last moment the rodent turns 
     and locks eyes with the owl —
the rodent is gone
     so is the owl
as the boy coldly prepares another.