An Australian mouse squeaks petulantly
at the distant Lion as its bombs insult
the peaceful ocean, degrading both the culture
of origin and the hapless victims
of "collateral" damage, deformed babies
coral reefs and birds, mutant fish
future releases

but the slaughter of our closest neighbours
just across the Timor Sea
elicits few tears
except amongst the knowing, and those
not past caring in a cynical world
like well trained cockatoos we squawk
an equivocal diplomatic response
to the brutalized junk-yard dog
who bails up our defenseless neighbours
and tears them to bits
our backs are turned
it wasn't us

our cage floor is clean, but large
the force that confines our neighbours
confines us; it defines our moral perimeter.
as we flap and squawk at distant antagonists
and mimic our own in feeble compliance

in cowardly mirth our quisling squeaks
full of guttural emphasis, diplomatic conceit
our debt of loyalty remains unpaid
taunts the fallen diggers in their graves
and mocks the sacrifice of their brave mates
their ultimate sacrifice unmeasured, or remembered
mere allies of convenience were the East Timorese

the bull prances, nothing can touch him
he rules by force, by fear, instilling terror
his public proclamation:
"they already get special treatment"
bullets.
Fritz Fraser

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