The Return of the Civil War Soldiers
by Michael Brett

After Gabriel had blown his horn
He returned with Artie Shaw:

And the dead awoke in the puzzled soil,
Naked and staring at the horseless earth:
Bald, treeless,
Without dung, lace or carriages;

Pylons, little brick houses
With televisions jabbering
And cars parking.

Swordless and cold,
They looked for their homes
And lost beliefs like blankets;

And everything that had seemed so much
Was nothing.

Copyright © 2012 - Michael Brett
Published: 1/12/12   ·  Author's Page   ·  Next Poem