Furious birds, functionally ugly, the Stukas

wind down out of the sky. As they descend
their sirens are rising, pre-set to concert pitch,

a deliberate, death decibal A. Lean and
bent-winged eagles, they fall on an audience

of refugees streaming off the road. The sirens
have been designed to accompany the dropping

bombs, a visual symphony to grace what
looks like, from above, sudden classical flowers

blooming in a moving, human garden.