The price of war

This is the price of war—rape!

This is the price you are willing

to pay from your ancient havens

of masculinity from which you say

that it matters little anyway, for

nothing has changed except the

ravaging of a body and a mind and

the invisible scars that trace their

way into a soul, into the blackness

of despair that lies outside your

reference frame that contains not

a person, but a number on a page.