"This"

The arms dealer licks his lips

"Is our latest munition,"

He explains to his customers,

As they sip

On expensive Brandy.

"G.P.S. or laser-guided,

Thermobaric bomb,

It explodes in a climax

Of white phosphorus,

A chemical that burns Underwater.

It's sticky!"

He says the word

With glee,

Like a little girl

Dreaming of candy.

A Turquoise lollipop,

To turn her tongue blue,

As she plays in

The schoolyard,

She doesn't even see

The airstrike coming.