To a Neighbor Back From War

To a Neighbor Back from War First of all, your mind. The chimes must stop, the drums, the horns, as well. Finally, the long, the wild parade of mummers crazed you must spade off the way my Daddy, years ago, when I was four, on a bright St. Patrick's Day, turned the soil in Mother's garden, cursed the British one more time then drove his spade, while Mommy screamed, through the neck of a garden snake. Donal Mahoney