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WAR SIREN

On the battlefield, the ruby blood, 
is caked to warm dusty brown to dry.
Bedraggled women calls the living, 
she, with pleasure, makes a soldier cry.

Lady in red, whore of the regiment, 
her life spent, intently but corruptly.
She will subtract the soldier from the war, 
and seduce him softly but abruptly.

Eerie soldiers of death seek the war whore, 
she turns them inside out and to her will. 
The men will knock, knock, knock upon her door; 
because not every soldier's dressed to kill. 

They have removed their blunt minds to fight, 
and advance but cannot kill to win. 
This femme fatale, siren of the trench, 
aspires to take the war out of men.

By Edlynn Nau
© June 21, 2016

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