In Buffalo and Texas
(after In Flander’s Field by Lt. Col. John McCrae, 1915)
Jonathan D. Greenberg
In Texas close to Mexico,
And New York burial grounds
The poppies blow
Between the crosses, row on row
That mark our place; and in the sky
The larks, still bravely singing, fly,
Scarce heard amid the firing rounds below,
As aiders and abetters gravely pray, and thank
Our Founding Fathers, and bellow
Their Satanic alibi
All the way to the bank.
We are the dead. Short days ago
We lived, felt dawn, climbed up on rocks,
Loved, and were loved, and now we lie
In Texas fields, fresh graves in Buffalo,
While mountebanks in black judicial frocks
And other sorry politicians cry
On Reddit, cable news and radio,
For open carry all around
And more AR-15s and Glocks.
