with a title donated by Dana Gioia
Today they’re recruiting for the Corps of the Undead;
in fetid cubicles they anticipate more dead.
The Wagner Group has left, so they hit the Taco Bells.
Salmonella casualties lead to eight more dead.
They prowl the pics on TikTok, Twitter and Instagram;
black-eyed houris comb their hair as they await more dead.
They break into a lobbying firm, but find no souls;
new voodoo ops endeavor to liberate more dead.
They quit their day jobs making phony calls from “Amazon”;
mute or gurgled robocalls don’t generate more dead.
Dancing now to their anthem, “The Way I Feel Inside,”
they wobble—and when they tried to roller skate? More dead!
In the end they grow weary of the blood and havoc,
and HQ says it’s hard to accommodate more dead.
Dark Lord, this is a just war in paradise for you;
it takes a horror show to assimilate more dead.