For two brothers in the womb, at arms, in the Middle East, in the West, gratefully, never at rest
For Danny
I pay both a gardener and a soldier
One I see bent on my lawn
pulling at morning glory
that strangles the cypress wall
The other I see bent in a fix
on a cease and desisted man's eye
Piles of limbs bagged and removed
clipped troops thinned and hauled away
Leaves falling red near my room
Red so bright if I taste them
curling with amber and gold
on the wetted walk below
Song for Billy
Your boots were laced
with guitar strings
Your tattooed songs
shot through your veins
A sheik of sanded down
handed down tunes
Their shimmering chords
pin up your spine
So much to salvage
but no one to save
Strike up your camp
your band waits today
Strum a canteen
or sip from your grip
A tank of dark ale
won't loosen your lips
Don't bite down hard
on a bullet of shame
No better-off somedays
to sneak up and blame
Stamp out the words
you found in your feet
The self-same boots filled
with raindrops and heat
They'll come when you call
off the hook on a riff
They'll follow you wherever
you march off a cliff
-- Lizbeth Leigh
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| bombs bursting in air |
Copyright © 2010 by Gilded Lily Press
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