Groundhog mother
I'm sorry about your baby
I'm ashamed and sorry
You fled at the sound of the engine;
I remember my relief.
But your baby was stuck in a crevice above the wheel well.
Minutes later, a thud under my tire, and a baby animal
striping a parking space and dying.
I'm so sorry.
I think it is best that you remain afraid of me and all my kind.
We - I - won't slow down. I'm not even sure I could, now, if I wished to.
You are a soft-bellied earth citizen - I am a war machine.
I will tell you your son died doing his service.
But I know it is because I would only make myself bigger, better, bigger, better, endlessly marching on.
You will do well to stay simple,
digging holes, not speaking the language of death - knowing by heart the language of suffering.
I am the war machine.
