The Innisfree Poetry Journal

www.innisfreepoetry.org

by Renee Gherity

War Waltz, Uncounted

Mourning comes daily

in a far off stare

Dogs blow so high

they bark with the dead

He does and he doesn’t

wish he could care

It’s all in his head

all in his head

His pain and his boot

lie by the bed

The fumes and the flesh

it’s all too clear

A boy with a gun

or a bird in a cage

It’s real and it isn’t

he tries not to think

He sees what he sees

but no one can hear

His pain and his boot

lie by the bed

Houses flash hot in the

sweltering sun

Women and children

                        learn not to cry

It’s just like movies

watched in the night

He hears what he hears

but no one can see

His boot and his pain

                        lie by the bed