Because They Have No Mouths

Published in The Collagist

It's easier done than said
To kill aliens. It turns out

The human corpse liberates
Gases and glop that wreak

The proverbial holy havoc
On their brainframes. Simply:

Apply the hari to the kari
And bingo!: Alien quandary

Quashed. But guess what?
Turns out that the general pop

Are not interested in suicide.
No—they do not wish to die

For the cause, cause—guess what?
They're keen on the motherless

Fuckers. The aliens cured cancer!
The aliens got to the bottom

Of global warming! The aliens
Baby-sit on Saturday nights!

We can lead sheep to water, but
We have to slit your throats

To make you drink. So we will.
We'll push the red buttons and let

Loose our missiles and germs
And wipe our planet clean. We will.

You'll thank us later, in heaven.
Or not, and if not—no matter.