*** Read down one column, down the second column and then across ***
Survey from the rear A commander post
scan his final audience grope for options in the midst
the beautiful people the friendliest fire
The heat at its zenith Roaming for a bulls eye
the men reduced human steeple
rows upon rows praying for reprieve
notches on pews snap back, back to
gaze forced forward the mind is ill equipped
turned toward the saccharine imbued in the spiritual
alter of a progressive church this is war, the military
forward enough to bury a gay soldier, meek make no claims in their death
The dead was not a notch of mine Your wife, her body not a tomb
I fuck his best friend she says it aloud
a weak willed man a perfect bride
up front with content woman, kids disillusioned by a young corpse
gaze forced forward struck like sun stroke
eyes narrowed in feigned acceptance pupils burnt with nothing in view
wow mujer. Just wow