Passcendale
As we scrambled across the land
in the thick mud,
I put my boot through the rotting corpse of my brother.
Numbed with pain, my heart cried out at the obscenity
as we raced forward and struggled ahead.
The mud, the blood, the whining shells
And the crashing boom of the great gun.
Now, years after
I cannot remember that day’s battle
but the feel of my foot
glancing against his ribs
tears my memory.
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