AN ESCAPIST'S REPRESSED DESIRE | poetry

the salient **

tw: war

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from the warmth of home
to the cold pits of hell.
is the earth drooling, foaming at the mouth,
hungry for bubblegum bullets
or is this just its dirty tears?
it doesn't matter
(there's no time to contemplate the value of life now)
for all they know is that it's gnawing at their boots
knit one, purl two. they're ruined!
and the blood in their feet runs wet and blue.
now over the top.
down!
can't let another one go down again.

the earth's scars are stained,
smeared with their rotting flesh.
what a waste
of such a pretty face
for now it's tarnished by metal to the core.
it rings in their ears and
they may never forget it
because we're all in it together
except the men they've loved for years
are falling to their knees next to them.
get down!
or another one'll be down again.

spring just isn't the same
when you can't smell the fresh april grass.
missing cotton-candy pink cherry blossoms.
yearning for the dawnly bird trills.
all they smell is that yellow-green
face of torn off legs and death.
it's everywhere.
they can't run.
trapped in the earth's harsh crevices of fatigue,
they wait for luna's
glorious face to greet them,
(a minute of silence as the world sleeps and forgets)
so the stretchers can bear their burdens
or the earth's muddy tears drowns them.
down! down!
another one's down again.