Remembrance
Quiet now
Night wind gentle on the killing grounds
Silent now
The guns have lost their appetite
~
Leftover life lingers in the yellowed earth
Pinned on a wire nest
The half-faced man embraces death as a lover
and the rats go about their business
~
Old men refill their glasses
Bend over their maps
Move the little flags forward
For the morning
~
The woman looks down at the child
Fingers the unopened telegram
The cross carvers are on overtime
So Mary will have her new dress.
A poem for the 11th hour of the 11th day of the 11th month when the carnage ended.
Very few wars can excuse this tidal wave of slaughter.