Monday, April 26, 2010

BOOKMARK


Towering up the cold refrigerated cliff
loaded with courage on our gunny bags
the asset the hills mannequined
fell flat to the eyes
wised up only to target 'moves'.
Faintly the tools dressed
and tents flake- hooked
mission yet not accomplished
having a campfire, no
not quite intended.
A sudden lamina of snow fell
the cannons sprang on guard
the frontiers seemed afloat
a while ago it was inert.
my eyes ambushed him: pale skin, green eyes
matched his pair of boots
Soldier was he.
Guarding his country backyard
equally retaliatory was I
chivalry roaring,
he gifted me his last smile
I felt something pushed into my throat.


The Quran had his son's picture, bookmarked
cherry-red his cheeks, snowy-white his eyes.


Myriad voices called me brave,

as I kissed the father good-bye.

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