War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

little corner of England (13)

the train, I took your train. did I?
from red earth, from heavitree stone,
a fortress soft and crumbling, Roman,
little gentle city, soft, gentle home;

wave after wave crashing green,
of English countryside I passed,
zero’ed my eyes spirals, steeples,
satellite dishes pointed east, north, west.

I saw you. sat next to you. could feel you,
your breath, the sweetness of the wounded
who has overcome death, I could feel you
inhale, exhale, your sightlessness.

and maybe you saw enough.
no, that can’t be, otherwise
we’d all no longer see, those
who’ve lived war’s uncertainty.

little corner of England, your beautiful
boy, blond, or dark-haired, camo’ed
vested in all our interest, he breathes
he is here, still, for all of us to see.


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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled little corner of England (13). It was posted here on November 29, 2011.

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