L'aura del Campo

Red Poppies

Glow of the aftermath,
last night's eruption,
your sulfur breath greets this dawn.
Not all choose their poison.
I will always choose you.
The dead laid out around us
did not get to choose.
A Ballast of bullets
weigh their chests down.
They cannot move now,
nor ever move again.
Red that burst forth now blackens.
The heat of their moments now cool.
The glow of last night's eruption
seared behind my eyelids
does not cool.
I inhale your hell-born breath
and lay down beside you
where come Spring
red poppies will bloom.

© Kåre Enga [175.287] (11.november.2018)

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