The War Horse

tinker

tinker camp on the enniskerry road

clip

clip clop casual iron of his shoes

as he

as he stamps death like a mint on the innocent coinage of Earth

torn leaf: maimed limb

.

destroyed rose: mere line of defense

.

a crocus

a crocus its bulbous head blows from growth

but we

but we, we are safe

why should

why should we care if a rose a hedge a crocus are uprooted like corpses remote crushed mutilated

selfish lack of fierce commitment

.

my blood

my blood is still with atavism

recalling

recalling days of burned countryside