Poem: Batik Diplomacy

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

From GLW issue 233