Again, in heartbreak. This is a poem from Emblem, 2011

After Guernica

we believed we’d seen it and seen it
clearly: sociopathy and its rationale,
the need of the state, protection racket
that gives the bullies not only something
to do, but something to do without
account, with impunity. Over the door
not the blood of the lamb but the word
WAR: so that now in that house death
is welcome, invited,  as in Gaza,
where two men hold a charred corpse,
a child’s, for the camera, for our eyes.
Pity? Yes. Horror? Yes.
Who cares what we feel, looking?
We retch at the wretched. Who
are not us. We are troubled at
the breakdown of diplomacy.
Negotiations have broken off.
Yes, right there: where the child’s foot
once was, there, where, like a leg
of lamb, the bone pokes through.