ONCE, IN THE WILD
And those fine city streets, fitting
as they may have been - with corners
fitting corners and tucks and trims -
were once all they were said to be.
Like bedsheets matched to a proper
set, the streets and avenues and lanes
and alleys seemed to have been sent
from some glorious 'other' place; the
grease-fitter's locations, or the shed
of a wheel-spinner's space.
-
Now? All gone in a dastardly, wide
emptying of the slate. Tabula Rasa
of place. Time. Space. So little left,
all things erased. The monuments
once known are gone or covered.
The words replaced or stolen.
-
Once, in the wild spaces of such,
were the double-meanings and the
fractured stories that old men tell.
Ypres. Passchendaele. Verdun.
Omaha Beach. Saigon. Hell.
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