All in a Day’s Work
Stealth fighter.
Black invisible ghost.
Death-bird of Hell
hard-wired for lethal strike,
electronic eyes a perfect 20-20 vision-
tearless orbs scanning from cold, dispassionate deep sockets.
A voracious vulture scavenging above fields of innocent brown mice-
rice farmers oblivious to the smoke, thin vapor trails snaking through cloudy pockets
rockets raining like sleet, an effusive hailstorm of unnatural disaster.
Deux- ex- machinas, surreal specters like fallen Icarus,
unseen by ordinary mortals. You’re metallic
justice dispersed deep within
bowels of Cheyenne Mountain
obliterating the unseen.
Stealth fighter
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