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Fishing Trip to Barren River
July 14, 2014
The flag flies half mast
Turn and face it
Make whatever salute befits a man who fought a soldiers war
And died a cowards death
Our cooler sits empty
Like the bottles
This is not a glorious war
Jack and I fight, reclined by the creeks edge, fishing.
I light a cigarette and he asks
What about the children
What children?
He smiles a pleasant smile
And laughs a hollow laugh
Baiting his hook we sit in silence-even if we had wanted music
The machines are all home for dinner
© Xiao H., Naperville, IL
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