Ghazal
This poem addresses the unsung soldier who is caught up in the grand conflicts of an epic.
I saw the evening drawn in red on the field
and your dark brother left his head on the field
Nations of dirt, sandcastles caught in the tide
this darkness was tilled, born, and bred on the field
Black pawns led along by lone children or Christs
the rice goes to those never fed on the field
Lost in two long years, no son, daughter, or wife
Like pigs, the clocks were cut and bled on the field
Perhaps I’ll return at the twenty-fifth hour
Having left Homer’s olive bed on the field
Now dry your wife’s tears before they set you down
in the old plot for the half-dead on the field