let us decorate Abu Ghraib with words,
lay out the old welcome mat
for a quaint little tea party,
and all the dolls and one stuffed animal
are here to fill these halls like guests
we dress or undress them in silliness,
so do what you’re told –
work hard, play harder, and kill
only with kindness,
for responsibility runs up the ladder
til it’s lost in some lie or
forgotten, despite our lovely scrapbook
of a midsummer day
when we offered you some tea
poured over your head
and clapped our hands in joyous success
thankful God would bless the American way.

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