Post image

Men tied to posts and shot, I saw them fall
like empty clothing dropped upon the floor,
in sudden silence stilled beyond recall
and justly, though misfortunate in war.
An empty can impaled upon a post
brings back the image to my inward eye.
Too empty were those heaps to hold a ghost
as empty as the wind that whistles by
a bullet-riddled can that keeps its shape
upon a post held up by strong, black tape.