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Xiv. Red From A Dilettante's Felt

To the war front, down
Fro retreat - to and down.
To and fro - left - right
Dexter - sinister again, left.

Sweating hands on a long hilt
Of a tapering blade, though blunt
Thrusts, and a scarlet fountain is felt
From pale faces of granite.

by Igwe Kalu

Comments (2)

If there's any suggestion of something other than combat- straight-up, close and personal - I'm missing the picture. As is, the taste of enemy blood is strong, as is fear and the isolation necessary to do the deed. If a flash of war, though initially broad, it quickly becomes very, very personal. ... a good read.
True feelings! They are really good! It got to me! This is a good poem!