Across the trench I see you readying to make a move,
the flares go up, a sure sign,
a prelude to a barrage,
the whoosh of shells and chatter of guns,
staccato, a painful beauty.
down comes the wire,
the whites of their eyes,
that moment of surrender.
And, just as soon, comes the silence,
as before, so afterwards,
ordnance expended, tension eased.
Now we hold each other prisoner
the distance is closed,
an alliance begins,
in this tortuous war we call love,
where no one wins
and everyone loses together.
©Paul Vincent Cannon