With My Buddy
His eyes see but grey and white
Hers drink in the red so bright
His vision is one of range and telemetry
Hers of the new turned earth of the cemetery
Blameless and foe,
With no address nor account,
Are tagged and defined
In the posthumous count.
To him, the graphics are grainy, electrical.
To her, the word ‘graphic’ is far more visceral.
Where culpability is negated by distance,
Who cares if pixels are guilty or innocent?