The bomber wrote its message above Baghdad
and from its shadow something dark slipped
to explode in a cluster of clay tablets,
figurines, seals, pottery, tools.
The target, a secret arms factory,
was intact, but all around were bursting
friezes and faces, a ram from a thicket,
a gold harp, a dagger, a chariot
and coins, coins ... Carefully guided
mythology from the third millennium before
Christ, lovingly crafted smart
technology from Ur, the war-games of Gil-
gamesh played by all those generals
in cuneiform in the history bunker, like Dudu
of Lagash, or Shalmaneser, or Belshazzar
safe behind the wall of Babylon HQ.