Wednesday, September 07, 2011

iPad note poem no. 3: fortunes of war

iPad note poem no. 3

He does not leave her until she gets on the bus
They are newly married, you see, and we all know
The longing look he gives her as she mounts the
First step.

He stares at the bus for a moment too long
While it pulls away and we know and he knows
And she knows he is smitten; he is hers; he is
Gone.

He turns to walk back to their shag carpet
Where he will lay half of the day killing his
Friends who whisper murder in his ear, not once
Thinking of her

And he is there on the shag when she returns
And he barely notices her in between fragging
A friend from Wyoming. Soon the child will
Be born

A child of lust and longing and desire and hand
Grenades. He won't notice it much either
As it cries for milk in one hand, controller in the
Other


Sent from my iPad

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