almighty

 

john sweet

 

two in the afternoon and

cold enough to understand the

meaning of hell

 

corpses of children still

smoldering in frozen ditches

 

dogs sick, dogs starving and

always the need for a

war that will leave only

          peace in its wake

 

always a clock running

backwards in an empty room

 

fields full of anonymous

bones and nothing beyond

them but more of the same