War Bills

There is a devastating power

In surrendering all to love,

Not knowing what, if anything, else may be,

In throwing caution to the sun and wind,

And pulling up the roots of Fabian policy.

The wine advances past the rampart’s wall,

Shining the apples,

Gladdening the violets

That grow just outside the holy stones,

Relaxing the mortar, ramming, and crumbling it.

And tomorrow, another war will hail the south,

And who shall say what mercenary gunner

Will turn and fight me with the opposing band,

Who today, worshipped with me, and the missionary,

And kissed my peaceful hand.

But now,

Let me shake my head in awestruck wonder

At how a brilliant woman can fall away,

Believing the lying clouds and fickle thunder,

Hoarding war bills, and swept by the bleeding breeze

Of pearls thrown out to swine, like black eyed peas.

-jenn long