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!