American Drone
Get high enough
and every body begins to lose scale,
the art of precision in binocular vision
that scans the landscape,
calibrating coordinates, pinpointing
the time without depth perception.
Hovering eyes double everything
but resist the particulars of multiples:
the man, the woman, the child
who dare to look up in the moment
the drone exceeds the limits
of mere representation.
© 2013 Maureen E. Doallas
Tuesday, December 10, 2013
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10 comments:
Oooh. Scary one. I love that first line--the humor and odd perspective it promises--and then the shift, the continued re-seeing and focus and lack thereof that you insist we SEE for the rest of the poem. Wow.
Powerful restraint here. Years ago I compiled an anthology, "Image a World," that included a section on "the feel of war." I wish I'd had this poem then to include.
Powerful images. Much to ponder.
Wonderful poem, Maureen. Makes a great partner for my painting, Ignorance is Bliss which contains a drone dropping a bomb on oil tanks.
We WILL make a difference with our art. Best to you, Janet
The last stanza left me cold.. wonderfully twisted around
drones scare me...the change in perception from on high...the indiscriminate killing...impersonal...
Drones - interesting the spaces you leave for where to write in - not only military drones, but worker drones, viewpoints from below and from above and noting that there might be a loss of focus at either viewpoint. This poem challenges in the best way. Kudos.
Loved!!
Wow, drones and their impersonal way of killing, the distance making their victims so small; deep poem indeed.
powerful Maureen!
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