Military Horns
His ears have sunk back into
his skull to escape the cracks and
whistles of exploding men,
careless with their eroding limbs
hoping for memorial films
and singing blasphemous hymns
to comfort him
His wounds are patched,
with his comrades skin,
harvested to match
the bandages that stretch from his soul to his chin,
and disguise him like the waves of bleeding mannequins,
displaying the future war fashions
decorated by the televisions
that flicker and flash across his eyelids
he will never sleep though
the wind blew out the sun
so he sucks the powder from his gun
and his stomach becomes
an organic volcano
so he finds a match to swallow,
and his body erupts at the pores
hollowing out the hospital,
and heating the floor like a stove
and so he betrays his sons
who march to military horns
committing acts of treason
even during birth
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