Valborgsdikt

(untitled)

Up on the driveway
where firecrackers lie like
snapped phantom limbs
the kiddie crusaders came marching
rung the dead doorbell
waited
with hands in hoodie pockets
futile thoughts wavering in spring's last winds.

Listen children
we'd sign her up if we only could
she's already been recruited
decades ago
baby blood polluted by
thick contract ink
the prime of that decaying continent
etched into the stars
of her fixed firmament.

Fires choke
gangs scatter
while partisans pull back
swallowed by tidy houserows
plastered white, red, yellow.

After the ceasefire
stray shots sulk in the night.