War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

lazarus (8)

she kissed and kissed the azure art
that floats beneath your soft, soft skin,
picked up your right forearm, kissed it too,
the regiment thundered from wrist to elbow
in orange ink, and red ink, and blue,
in case I was blown up
they’d be able to ID body parts;

tattoo’s from another life
ink on your left forearm,
another on your left shoulder,
jumper, infantryman,
fuck it hurt, both done in one day
she looked at you, shook her head
you lay back, covered your eyes with your hand;

she read to you Anglo-Saxon poems
one year after you’d patrolled Afghanistan,
it snowed and snowed outside the lodge
quiet, blanketed, with her you lay, within.


About This Page

The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled lazarus (8). It was posted here on April 19, 2011.

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