it begins angry
a ghost
gold around the edges
rotten at the core
gold of yesterday’s sunsets
benefits waived
i remember the wind’s sound in trees
free on my bike, as a child
uncorrupted
unscarred
not yet afraid
- but war is coming
the trenches blacken with gore
angry holes slicken
with mud
tramped underfoot
by the legion’s boot
- war is coming
sprung from my own breast
and fear
ugly, tooth and nail
- i will be replaced
- my body will be covered with lime
- brought by the day’s reinforcements