Stones for Loaves

Cleaning is a chore isn't it
Last when you walked the far fields
Barely escaping a live minefield
For a war that was triggered
When a dormant insurrection
Is provisioned as a successful
Operation of scalping the unknowns

From Flanders to the splinters
That got stuck to the bones
Avoiding near contact with
A gravestone
That a body bag makes known
You tripped and then got up
Saving your lost soul
As listlessly as the pieces
Already blown

Accounting for nothing
If you don't know the game
Where you unpack a rucksack
Either to fight to the finish
Or to figure a way with the consoles
To ratchet up the speed
Barely able to reckon
The bodies lying in stillness
Like a zen pond
Replacing fishes for stones

Stones for Loaves

The logical exegesis
Of what's left is the temporal you
In the forever grace of living
Like a hellfire missile whizzes past
A flock of birds in the skies
Missing it but not missing
The geolocated target
That meets its nemesis
In an impersonal drone.