Execution, Afghanistan (War Poem.119)

Low level violence on the news

Wounds like pig face

Do you want me to drop this cunt, the soldier shouts

His need, his fear, almost palpable

The sharp, disconsolate caesura, weak disguise

Do not see (it says) 

A dove half-hidden in the grass

In lapis, rags and bones

I will cling to the sleek thigh of a fast departing plane

With love like desperation

Fall like birds

Forgetting how to fly

We are all heroes now


Grasping freedom