War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

little corner of England (7)

on an English platform I saw him
he carried his helmet,
he carried his frag, ceramic plates,
plates that sucked 50 degree dust
in the green and the rain,
I saw him in rush, in rush,
in rush, rush, rush,
pulled out of there,
pulled out of the dust,
pulled out of a strong point
convoyed, the FOB, Chinook
whook whook whook whook
pulled out through KAF,
sweat, fucking filth stuck
like a best friend,
like the one he’d die for,
like the one he’d run for
across a platform in deserts for a train
in a little corner of England,
in quaint rain, in the rain,
in the rain, rain, rain,
he’d run for
the one he’d have died for,
through little England’s
quaint, green rain.


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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled little corner of England (7). It was posted here on August 19, 2011.

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