Fixed Behind the Fifty

The kindling and the sticks
He scattered with his boot
Strands of smoke
Quickly diffusing
By overhead branches
And chill morning air.

Coffee grounds swam
In boiled coffee
A grit between
The soldier’s teeth
The way memories
Irritated
His heart and mind.

Tired every morning
Weary all night long
Anxious every hour
And thinking of going home.

Damn these burned out villages
And damn these empty fields.

Damn these brooding clouds
And damn these cartridges and shells.

Today is yesterday
And yesterday today
Tomorrow never comes
In the middle
Of a freezing hell.

Her body was so tender
Her kisses were so sweet
But memories are toxic
When you’re fixed
Behind your fifty.

Memories are toxic
When you're fixed
Behind the fifty.