War

There is no mountain,
nor field,
in the tunnel of this sub-silent
open door.

Red-as-blood outlines
a going somewhere
going nowhere.

Dreams, schemes, and
flying machines await orders,
await boarders, as
the mower in the room is
the words of the prophets on
subway walls,
“There will be a cutting down
a cutting back in fields to come....”
...from garden gates to decimate.

Take a seat.
Take a rest.
Your travels will take, too.
Brace yourself for the mowing down
on fields beyond mountains where
you are yet to be.