War Fair

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Primping before their glassy shields...
None tell the adolescent girls
When they march out upon the fields
What weapons they will wield and whirl

With burnished hair and polished skin
With bows and ribbons, medals wound;
Long-legged strides - again, again --
That build empires and tear them down.

For politics, philosophy
religion - all retreat in shame
From the swoops of covert troops
That turn all wars to giggling games.

Would-be heroes heed the call
to win this hill, to burn that town
for freedom’s sake, but it is all
the weaker vessel’s battleground.

Though kings and generals lead the way
to death of privates hard or green,
Each in his turn must bow, obey,
serve and defend his dizzy queen.

The wounded - home to cultivate
their bittersweet, sweet, bitter fruit,
wait upon the soft smooth throne
of she whose reign is absolute.

[1980]