Reiterant History

And now my dear Herodotus,

about those marshes that entrenched
xenophobic armies.
The Serbon Lake, I believe?
Whole hills of wind-blown sand
down upon the waters.
Deceptively solid
as the lake became a marsh.

After the first thousand
No one yelled "Stop"?

Perhaps they were pursued by huge snakes
like those you site in Libya
Dog-headed men or Headless ones
with eyes in their chests?
What say you Oh, ancient Historian,
Master of your Media?

Your history might be in doubt
but we face it all again,
This time with weapons
of mass destruction
and missiles crossing
Serbonian Oceans.
And no one to yell "Stop"

But now I must give you credit
for the Headless ones with
eyes in their chests.
No doubt the survivors
of world-wide warnings
that went unheeded.

L. Fullington

If you've any comments on this poem, L. Fullington would be pleased to hear from you.