February 24th, 2015

crumpet2

A Friend is Grieving Today

FOR DEBS

They're always gone, the ones who go away.
The missing tooth that always catches crumbs.
Each year the midnight of their absence comes
Looms like a shroud and hangs about all day.

Grinning each tooth a scythe that will divide
You from your better memories. Nowhere
Can you find solace. Venice? They're not there
Nor can you wish that it was you that died

For that would be to wish them all this pain
That you can bear. Endure because you must
Death weaponizes liptouch, longing, lust.
This death's best jest. That they'll not come again.

Grit tears our eyes the ashes that we toss
At this day's funeral, at each night's loss
crumpet2

A protest poem not about sex and gender

BRITISH MILITARY ADVISERS HAVE BEEN SENT TO UKRAINE

Boots in the mud. Sweet smell that catches sour
back of the throat. There was a churchyard here
headstones bulldozed to rubble. And now we're
back in the mire again. Assassin hour

mistake cascade, the trains will run on time
delivering to death the surplus young
old statesmen speeches flickering their tongue
fine words smeared broken walls with blood and grime

I use old language. It's that time again
Not make it new. For that would be a lie
I am too old. It is the young who die
gas-blistered shitting, screaming with the pain.

Angel of death is back – this last I sing.
I hear the beating of his broken wing.