For Karim Alrawi
Glaze eyes. Then glaze soul: the dull, dull deadly
dull faceless work of those killed
whose names we don't know
by those whose names we don't know. Drone:
we can't mourn or condemn
because we can't see. It's a hive of bees,
it just stupefies us, we breathe in the smoke
smoke, smokescreen war, collateral damage, compound
fracture. Smart bombs kill only bad men
and those who chose the wrong side: suspect wives,
bodyguards, accidental children,
a cat on a wall of stone. Drone. In a hotel room,
eyes half-mast, he sucks the plastic spout of a honey bear,
drifts to the place where poppies come from.
It doesn't help if we shout: he's gone. Gone.
It doesn't count if you do it standing up. If you do it
with good intelligence. If you do it from very far away
so they are small ants so they don't know
what hit them. What hit them? Lemons
hail at impact. They want to minimize
casualities, improve accuracy.
We are too far away to hear the news,
we hang upside down, there are Djinn of dust,
we swarm the enclave, clean the stingers,
strum our throbbing abdomens,
swell our lethal hexagons. Drone.
It's good hygiene. No broken bodies
on screen, just the buzz of America's Biggest
Loser, just the long, long boring war.
So turn the channel already, bury first-born souvenirs
sent home on ice, medicate all post-coital
stress syndrome. Drone. When there's no spectacle,
how can we mourn? One button,
and they are erased: a slight tornado
of dust, unwrapped chest, fractured
human shield. Her arms relax, she spills
her body's wine: blood
dervish, tea and teaspoon.
Eyelashes: son. Drone.
This poem ruminates on the effect of drone warfare and remote killing on our collective experiences and perceptions of war.
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The word “drone” indicates both the machines themselves and the sound of something repeating, monotonous, and idiophonic (a source of sound producing a singular note). How might a recitation of this poem link the two meanings?
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Repetition in poetry is often a source of joy and euphony (harmonious sound). But the effect of repetition in this poem feels different. What mood do the repeating sounds, words, and images in this poem create for you?
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“Drone” focuses on certain kinds of absence: the unseen, the unnamed, and the unknown. How do these negatives that run throughout the poem impact your understanding of the poem?
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How do you read the bee imagery and sound associations used throughout? Trace the effect of this extended metaphor on the meaning of the poem. What sonic atmosphere is created by this metaphor?
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Can you think of other poems that have marked the introduction of new technologies of war? (For example, the WWI writer Wilfred Owen wrote about the horrors of trench warfare in “Dulce et Decorum Est.”) Do these poems have a common theme? Does the focus on the technology itself, rather than war more generally, produce a distinct way of seeing how conflict affects us?
Writing activity: A topic as large as war is difficult to write about because it is so vast. By focusing more tightly on a singular aspect of modern warfare—the use of drones—Rachel Rose pulls forth some profound meanings. Choosing another large theme like war, such as migration, poverty, or beauty standards, similarly pick a specific tool, instrument, or object associated with it as your focus, in order to reveal its greater meaning.
Useful Links
Live reading, including poems on Rose's personal migration from the US to Canada: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=b7OTwS5s-yY
A different poem referring to bees, in a different but perhaps related sense: https://www.vancouverisawesome.com/courier-archive/general-archive/poetic-licence-bees-by-rachel-rose-3047452
Interview with Rose discussing the role of empathy in literature: https://www.cbc.ca/radio/thenextchapter/full-episode-sept-5-2022-1.6416792/rachel-rose-reflects-on-empathy-acceptance-and-redemption-in-the-octopus-has-three-hearts-1.6416809
Rachel Rose, "Drone," from Song and Spectacle. Harbour Publishing, 2012. Reprinted with permission from the publisher.