Dreaming The Trench
I saw claws on rats.
Vicious, digging into the
Handless forearm
Of an unsuspecting sentry,
Whose body had disintegrated before me,
Like a dream, forgotten in the morning.
He had been lighting a cigarette
When the shell illuminated
The horror, the spectacular,
The deafening murder,
Beneath a Sergeant’s temporary, canvas awning.
I saw teeth on rats.
Vicious, digging into the
Clammy flesh
Of a bleeding forearm;
Bones splintered in mud before me,
Like wood shavings beneath my father’s plane.
I had been writing a lover’s letter
When the explosion rocked
The trench, the peace,
The rotting carnage,
Beneath the Belgian, drenching, persistent rain.
I saw eyes on rats.
Vicious, digging into the
Oozing hole
Of my bleeding throat;
Wire tangled tight around me,
Like thorns of a nettle’s shroud.
I was remembering kisses
When the machine gun racked
The advance, the foolishness,
The incomprehensible suicide,
Beneath this weakening, beckoning, darkening cloud…
Pete Ray
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