"Winter of the Campaign"
DEFCOM 2 last week
each house on the block
displayed a warhead,
studded with green
and red, in the middle
of the front room,
signaling imminent
apocalypse. Heat
blasting as I drive by
on tree collection day,
I almost imagine
thaw might be near
but ranks of the fallen
lining the street
remind me just how
slowly seasons change.
Some wear plastic shrouds,
others lie naked,
limbs akimbo
in pools of brown. Killed
more than a month ago
then duped by little drinks
into thinking they lived,
they were decorated
like heroes home from the front,
ringed by bright offerings,
crowned by messengers
from heaven and wrapped
in a warm electric glow.
Now the New Year has come
and their utility has ended.
Shoved to the curb, they might
take bitter solace
in all the needles left behind
in joints of hardwood floors
to prick careless soles throughout
the rest of winter.
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