On 10/12/05, Roger Day <[log in to unmask]> wrote:
> Low sun slants over monitor onto men crawling through mud
> on their bellies, malarial, cockpit full of smoke, legs broken,
> pranged kite, two kills, smattering of shells in the treeline,
> death have faced: Grant at Vicksburg, Wellington at Talavara.
> A paper warrior watches warily from the corner of my bookshelf.
>
> Hand-me-down template of Grandad
> origami into intricate folds
> dotted lines even-up, chest-out, fly straight and true,
> an avatar to a funeral in berlin, the face of battle,
> come home on your shield or with it
> anything but a male nurses white uniform
> with its green lapels and fob-watch.
>
> The warrior steels himself for death by scissors
> a loose pile, fern-spike on my floor
> a transit camp to MIND[1] away from mind
> a shedding this autumnal day
> hard cold twigs, bare branches
> kind earth breeding hawthorn
> for the spring so once we hammered
> stakes together in the earth
> so now I see his eyes peer
> over glasses slipped on his nose,
> his face screwed up in thought
> strong arms heft the bodies.
>
> --
> http://www.badstep.net/
> http://www.cb1poetry.org.uk/
>
[1] MIND: National association for mental health.
--
http://www.badstep.net/
http://www.cb1poetry.org.uk/
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