I have a soldier,
a soldier boy sent off to war
to war
To warm
with fire-arm heat
his heart
might go down
in a b l a z e of glory.

But my bed is cold and empty.

Our connection as thin as the paper his letters are written on...
dirty, ink smudged,
worn out love.
My heart is his used bullet shell.

There are open arms offered to me here...
But if I took them.
Held them.
Let myself cry these oily tears...

That fragile dog chain between us...

Would snap.

Those hollow soldier's eyes.
Like two hour glasses
with all the sand run out-

would look out into the desert
dry.

Eyes thirsty,
For someone,
For some touch of home...
Would run dry
dry.

And he would b u r n out
in that b l a z e of glory.

For a traitor.
A traitor like me.
Weak-hearted heartland girl.

An enemy within.

O for the love of him am I put in such pain.
Odd that love should force such a breaking.
This breaking.
That will break both our hearts.

I have a soldier,
a soldier boy sent off to war
to war
to a war
while my mind fights battles of its own.


Anonymous
02:29:25 AM

Love Poem #4: Time Travel,or Don’t Ask What Happened to Love Poem #3, or for that matter parts II and III of This Poem

I.
One night
I made the summer skyline stop changing.
the mountains were like
ripples in fabric
soft & explosive
and I reached upfrom the ground
with my free hand
and tied the moon to the pine trees,
and I unraveled the stars
and threaded them throughour hands
so we would have light wherever we went,
and I unwrapped
the black blanket of the sky
and draped it over our shoulders
so we would keep warm

And the vast green heavens
were exposed above us
and it felt like we were falling

so we held each other,
the starlight tangled among our fingers.

Nanotyrannus
7/2/06
1:11:11 AM