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

Renee Gherity lives and writes in Washington Grove, Maryland—a small town where mail is not delivered. A retired lawyer, she has work upcoming in Poet Lore.



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