War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

recce (3)

broken cedar boughs, crushed salal,
the weir unseen beneath the river
the river green unseen as night vision
he knows how to read,
to read hidden stones, naked feet
slipping through the notional,
the notional, the drawing out
the scout, the scouting, the
drawing out, the rattle, rat-
a-tat-tat tattle of brass
in a desert laden with wire
and trap, the rat-a-tat-
tat, thud thud thud
of the last trumpet, the slits
in the grape hut, the ping
5 centimeters above the helmet,
the drawing out, the drawing
out electronic-ly, she laid a trap,
scouted the scout scouting out,
crossed cedar boughs, crushed salal,
while the river ran on and on
unbelievably green.


About This Page

The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled recce (3). It was posted here on June 14, 2010.

·

Complete diary archive