Let’s take a day or two,
a truce—
if you stop killing me,
I promise I won’t kill you;
a truce we call today,
but you may still think
not enough blood is spilled
not enough bullets are sold
perhaps, the baby’s premature
it may not pull it through.

Let’s take a day or two,
a truce—
I want to finish a whole meal
then take the time to nap
without a worry about snipers,
sapper’s traps, and fool’s trifles
thinking glory passes through my skull—
a destiny for me so bleak and dull
I am destined to be a martyr they say.

Let’s take a day or two,
a truce—
I want to take my kids to school,
the one we bombed yesterday
the one you made a bunker for the day before;
let me teach them what makes a nation—
before a great warrior, I was a teacher—
let me grease their brains
and lubricate their thoughts,
tomorrow they’ll need these skills, anyway,
for their rifles and guns.

Let’s take a day or two,
a truce—
I want to make love to my wife
to remember that once I had a life—
all our sexual adventures are death,
the thousand women we raped,
you and I took turns, remember?—
we could share the spoils with foes
but we could never share a piece of land,
a small pinch of dirt we smeared with blood—
yesterday was called a country,
today it has become no man’s land.

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