Armistice



Before the firing squad

he said,
my home is not my home.

I have kept busy seeking

the ones who sent cruel looters

after what it used to be. 
Now it seems

the future is unimaginable,

but to a few sad owners.
I wish I had no memory

of how it was to idle

in our twilight backyard

listening out for you. 
At that they sent smoke licking

from their rifle barrels.

There confused they waited,

together patient to be saved.