Wednesday, December 18, 2013

Poems and Prose #68 - Mortar

Glorifying war;
first a blast
and then some more.
I press my ear down
to the floor,
not for preservation
but just to keep score.

And when I hear
that awful roar,
feel that hoary heat
and taste shrapnel's bore,
I'll know then
the truth of lore,
and into the wind
drifts yet another spore.

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