The Green Zone

As promised - prose poem - inspired by 2 years living opposite here and posted today, because lovely hubby (aka Chris Cole) is quoted in The Guardian today. This poem was inspired by a class with the great Jenny Lewis, who taught me poetry last year. I'm not much of a poet, but thanks to her, my sister Joanna Clark, and the equally wonderful Jane Draycott, I'm better than I was...

This is one of my experiments that might not quite work, or may even be a tad pretentious. It is deliberately shaped as if it is a fence. But, you may think that unnecessary. Let me know. (I'm sure you will!)



Across the brown fields, encased in grey steel, a little piece
of America        lies facing us.         Behind the barbed wire
fence,    under the silver dome, they sit    in their computer
-simulated home,         waging their war games        around
the world.    In near real time,        they look at the pictures
taken by satellite           or unmanned drones,          analyse,
and           write reports               that are sent up the chain
of command.             So the general, at breakfast      in the
Pentagon, can take a view        of        the meaning of      a
vehicle,         or      visits between neighbours,          decide
that this is suspicious        or       not       and give the order
to drop the bomb,    fire the shot, whilst he           can carry
on with     his kippers on toast.      All this can happen while
I give my children lunch,        and the       results of        the
general’s morning decisions will         be on my     TV screen
by tea.  America’s reach is vast.  I  watch   from my kitchen.