The house at the end of the road,
the giant multiple-walled house
at the end of the road without
a telephone, or internet,
without a satellite dish,
without rubbish—the residents
burned what they consumed—
certainly smoke can be traced,
and the courier’s story leaked
out of somebody else’s mouth
held incommunicado
in an East-European dungeon,
on leased land in the island
of Cuba, but that is another story,
the war found its target, today,
in helicopter to hand combat,
four aircraft once again, this time
choppers, and special forces—
not from Afghan camps
into Florida flight schools–but
Navy Seals, and the target
legitimate, not three thousand
ordinary civilians living
their American lives
until robbed by death,
rules for the rest of us
alive modified, and now
another death, tying
of the circle, a full spin
around the planet, what
Peru’s president said
was John Paul’s first miracle,
coincidence, his beatification
and death in combat
of Osama Bin Laden,
a bullet in the temple
of Evil, no longer
a Mastermind.