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
Almost
Grasping freedom