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When He Gives the Order


by Darryl Price


to kill, he is murdering 
their ability 
to love. When he gets up 
to go to the bathroom, 
he stretches his toes in 
the expensive shoes, unencumbered 

by bombs dropping 
in on his head. His
taste for wine tends toward 
very dark red. When he
gives the order to kill,
one wonders how many
 
realize it is for
both sides to die today.
He loves his horse. He will 
have their horses killed. He 
has a beloved daughter. 
He will kill all their sons 

and daughters. Anything 
that moves without his permission.
It's all too easy, 
he tells himself. All 
I have to do is command 
them to work and they'll
 
do it, night and day, all 
day long, every day, until
I have what I wanted. 
It's never boring. 
He doesn't care how the 
world ends, but he would like

to see the Christmas lights 
up in the square one more 
time before that happens. 
He will burn their Christmas 
gifts to ash to show them 
there is no safety from
 
his net, which, yes, he knows 
is full of holes, but who 
among the many cowards 
will step forward and 
really care? He has THE 
bomb. The one. When he gives
 
the order to kill, they'd 
best see to it or be 
killed themselves. It's our way
our sovereign right, he 
thinks, to take over lands
so we might live in peace.
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