A Soldier at rest
surrounded by poppies
the sun total in his eyes
playing with the sand wound around his hand
Blinks away the dust
hears people singing some false hymn of praise
closes his eyes and sings the happiest psalm
static from his radio doesn’t move him
remembers his coin collection
the one in the top drawer of
his desk in his south-west
ranch style home, the flamingoes in the front yard
Blinks again
touches the two holes in his chest
brought by pure force of welcome
