AFTER THE WAR

Disgust creeps into the
voices of tomorrow's victims:
a matter of barricades and gunfire.
Glueing the ear to any wall
the thud of sledgehammers
announces the lumbering approach
poised ready to devour.
Struggle can be gleaned along the passage, in
the prospective victims' exasperation:
justice is blind in one eye.
The soldiers' accumulated rancours
produce new flow of traffic:
tragic vibrios caught up
in a complex adventure
With a tornado of enigmas
I inscribe luminous distress-signals.
Death's flirtations are notorious in battlefields,
death is as round and as black
as the Indian eye:
Death is a metaphor of life.