Tales From The Battlefield

  The road ends here, there's nothing to go onward for, There's mud from the rain and blood from the war. There are clouds in the sky and tears on my face Which I've asked you not to wipe off and you've listened with grace. I'll take them with me wherever I'll travel Like a secret potion nobody will dare to unravel. Wait for me, and meanwhile please gather all those words I've asked you for years to say, I won't survive without you, but I'll leave anyway.

 

From all the six piers that enter the sea The marks of your hands wave hazily back at me. Your fingers drew distinct escutcheons on my breasts and my soul, one flag for each pier, My fountain pen will write poems and metaphors, one for each year.