Peace in this anchorage
Assumes a fervent myth
With many values. The edge
Of night fear, the path
Followed by guileless friends
Knows lighter ways to death
Now that this dying ends.
Swung on three shots of chain
My vessel, obsolete,
Describes a slow turn;
The Nazi and the brute
Delivered from their pride
To ours have learned too late
How hardly dead men died.
The northern cities squander
Ticker tape and crowds
As the heroes’ legal tender,
The stars have given the boys
Their pinup charts of lust
To follow if allowed-
False bearings for the lost.
Oh the dead shall have their laugh
Who knew it all the time:
Peace is the other half
Of war. The dreams of home,
Gorgeous and built with care,
Swing on three shots of chain
And burn out in the air.
Leave a Reply