Original title “Collateral Damage.”  Written during the war in Nicaragua, so…1980s, sometime. 

This poem was published in 2003, in 100 Poets Against the War (from Salt Publishing, UK).

Does it do any good to write poetry?

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What d’you call it
that thing
that thing that came in the night
that hung above our village
and a war fell onto us from its mouth
what d’you call it

what d’you call it
that thing
I couldn’t see it too well in the dark
I think it had grey skin
know it had red eyes
it wasn’t a dragon
it was too hungry to be a dragon
it was too angry

Whatever it was
a thing like that
ought not to be free
ought not to be let loose to do that
ought to be locked up
ought to be somewhere else

What d’you call it
that thing
that roasts your children
that cinders your wife
takes your father in flame
melts your tongue to the roof of your mouth
burns the consonants out of you
until all you can do is scream open throated, only vowels,
nothing to give shape or form to the sound
no words
and what words could you have had before this
to describe — this

what d’you call it?

yes I suppose
you could call it
a helicopter
a vertical takeoff and landing armored air support vehicle
an Apache
a Cobra
and I suppose its anger and hunger could be
a mistake
an unfortunate incident
nothing to deter us from our mission

but
HELLFUCKER – SHITCLOUD – DARKRAPER- CHILDBURNER – SKYEATER
STORMSWAN – DEVILROAR – DEATHBIRD – WIDOWERMAKER
FLAME GOD HAMMER –
all work just as well

just do not call this
“collateral damage”

there are no clean words for some things