I walk with voices that speak of dread
Surviving death blows inside my head
All the while my feet are beckoning…
Stu… stut…stuttering aimlessly
Splitting tongues with knives
Reeking of poison
confirming my lies
I make a sign of the cross and pray for souls
That killed all men who dared to be foes
My tattered repairs meant to hide
The things I wished to remain hidden
But only remind me of the things
I lied about to forget my pain
And in the dust where I drew
the lines that my years had written
I found that the pains of the gains
of my hours had been forgotten
rjh
Z
This was published in the chapbook Old Horses, in 2017. It foreshadows the soldier John Hapflik in the novel The Confessor of Littlefield.