The Mourning Mud

To stand among the outstretched
growing waiting dead
as metal birdsong forward beckons;

To glance last time alog the line
as a thousand hearts
force a tide of crimson tension
taught through every vein;

Over, under cover,
swathes of gunfire,
no time between misses
to look back for pals
the mourning mud will
forever claim.

© Copyright D. Archer October 2011

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