Friday, 11 November 2011
Pause to remember ...
Disappearing With a Tie
He puts a tie on to read his papers.
Checks the knot in his hall mirror and then
does his National Service quick-march
down to the library where he leans over the broadsheet,
elbows of his jacket secured with extra padding.
It’s warmer here in the bucket seats, he might say
should you ask. And there’s company of a sort,
although everyone obeys the rule and no one speaks.
A nod to the familiar is sufficient. And maybe
a twitch of a smile on a good day.
I don’t know, he might say
should you ask what he’s looking for.
But finds himself pulled to the casualties.
The role-call of young lives severed
in the war of I am More Right Than You Are.
I know this, he might say should you ask,
the past is locked into the present,
holding the future to ransom
and the weapons may change
but the blood
slick on a different patch of earth,
stains just the same.