Todd Swift
War Poetry
My childhood. well, try Poetry 1914-1918;
It wasn't hell - not quite simple or bad enough.
If childhood is a country, I don't want to visit.
Meanwhile, as an adult, I wear suits and ties
And am quasi-okay. I try keep my head down.
Tickets are now online for being a kid again.
The Troy I had was leveled pretty much by ten.
Sometimes it's their words, sometimes unknown.
It's There that is the problem with Here.
There is where their Fear sets up its beachhead
Turning a sandy honeymoon into D-Day.
How wonderful if we could go summer
In a place shaded from the past, with only
A view of the future, wiped of Then. Just you.
Page(s) 27
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