literature

Breathe

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Literature Text

Soldier, guardsman, standing there,
Stoic shoulders, close cropped hair,
Arms felled straight, chin aloft,
For what do you prepare,
Who is it that must be offed?

The tilt of a head, beret flung,
A man enters, a punctured lung,
Dreams of freedom no more,
On a coat peg they are hung.

His eyes dart, a glimpse, a glance,
Limp limbs over-arch upon his stance,
Hope drips and ebbs, a candlestick,
Morphine transcends a bemused trance,
Shrapnel protrudes, pressure's the trick.

Surgeons pace, fasten the tourniquet,
Black lurches over, smelling a banquet,
Chest deflates as a sagging balloon,
New blood, like Capri Sun in a packet.

The lines fluctuate, condition unstable,
He might survive the night, if he's able,
Lifeline that dwindles on a thread,
Normality will never be more than a fable,
Wife smiles, ironic but not dead.

Now pray tell, soldier,
Was it worth the order,
Did the impact elate you,
Do you wish to grow older?

He's not a victim but a forgotten wound,
His insides ribboned, excessively pruned,
He is canvas, the scalpel the brush,
To A minor his piano is now tuned,
Tell me, soldier, does it haunt in the hush?
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