After the Claim

By | 2 February 2001

the blue cover, the blue cover
unearth grasses unearth guns and
a regiment of human frailties in green.

can’t see anything but blue lying on its back
looking up with holes in me just like neutral cheese.
when the war was over I couldn’t make out my own front.

the flaps, the way they crossed over the unifrom
made no sense no. they couldn’t protect me
under cover fire and the single colour.

Why isn’t there a street named after me in this city?
You, the one who knocked me over in the crowd, the one
I would have shot dead had I the front.

a blue object I brought back bled with a silk
soft to the touch of anyone on both sides the memory
I pruchased so as to have something to show.

I gave it to protect my underbelly
to prevent me throwing up on floor
them from sorting through the muck.

Dug up you are, from a pile of earthly rubble.
the victims of craters, shell shapes.
I’m so much more sky!

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