War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

little corner of england (26)

oh the green, the green
dragon tail valleys of England
fielded, quartered, walled,
ragged unscythed, uncut,
holy, the robiny hedgerows,
the lumpen circle of standing stone
sentry-smart leaning
into centuries of footfall
Roman, Saxon, Norman;
now this boy, no, this man,
runs the length of a rail
platform, dusty, carrying
ruck, ceramic plates, helmet,
he runs along the platform,
back to his green, lichen, mossy
home. O England, little corner
of England see the man run
with desert ruck, dust, ceramic
plates, run for a train, run
the alley of rail and rain
and shoppers who cannot see
heat and hurt, nor hear
radio’d nights, nor feel a fate,
flight above desert, the smell
of diesel, jet fuel, Russian planes
gorged with replen, weapons,
soldiers, bottles of water everywhere,
and dogs running wild. cannot see
the little girlchild roll her broken tire
down the dusty track, or the razor wire.

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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled little corner of england (26). It was posted here on October 26, 2012.


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