Travelling in shadow
with message ready
to unleash
the chaos of hell: a battlefield.
Every word explosive,
all sides tremble.
Man, you wouldn’t believe it,
we jumped off, super tourist,
(staying seated naturally)
with a switch to
voices of
“Incoming!”
How friendly.
With noise intimate,
A hissing song
a tremble
of text.
A bloody snap of paper
(Attention! Postcard!)
As butcher bird appears
directed
With something
much more personal.
“Contact” –
licked clean, perfect
by the blast.
A pause.
Execution perfect
in the high altitude of killing
only the “wish you were here” missing.