Optical Illusions

Men and women in uniform

come to drape the flag over the coffin

of a VFW. They carefully fold it,

white gloves hiding smooth young hands,

and hand it to the widow.

 

And off they go to their wars

in Iraq and Afghanistan,

not knowing when

the flag will be draped over them.

The sun glints through the stand of pine

 

at the cemetery. The grass is too green

in the springtime. Lord Sabaoth his name,

from age to age the same,

and he must win the battle.

Morning is broken.