When that Yankee boy
Last cried mama
He lay helpless
Illuminated by fire
Her frosted charge
In winter
Souvenir hunters
Scrounge their histories
Soon after
Blood runs cold
Cheap knockoffs
Molded- felt kepis
Stacked in battlefield parks
A summer amusement
False allegiance
And phony wars
Are
Are
Like TV
Offensive
The glory of blood
Frozen in ditches
Remains the earth's
Farmed out
To dumb tourists
Turning over sons
Tom McGlynn
copyright 2014
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