All day
stuck up this bloody tree
in the middle of bloody nowhere.
All the landscape
shrunk to this crossroads
like the crosshairs
on a gun sight
brings the distance
into focus.
“Bloody Nora! ”
He swears to himself
and laughs.
His mother’s name was Nora.
Always thought it was hilarious
to swear by her.
Remembers one time
as a boy
swearing at her:
“And eh by gum
she didn’t half hit me hard! ”
“Blood seeping through the gum
still taste the taste of it
on my tongue
bloody ‘orrible it was!
hated it ever since.”
“Now, look whatcha made me done! ”
she hollered at him.
“Yes…sorry our Mum! ”
He didn’t dare cry
‘cos she’d hit for crying!
“She was a hard one…our Mum!
Had to be with us bloody lot!
She were fun though when she were happy! ”
He hoped to God
that his man
would come
so he could kill him
and be done.
Didn’t know him
from Adam
(leader of the insurgents
capable of getting men around him) .
“Dangerously
Charismatic! ”
Better dead
to keep the British
peace alive
as the Empire lay dying.
The sun setting
dying him a golden brown.
“If he don’t come soon
I won’t have the light
to kill him.”
“Remembering shooting game
with our Dad
rabbit…pheasant
up ‘eath
in sunlight such as this.”
The dangly bloody rabbit
turning into next night’s stew
eating a celebration
of what you can do
do well...kill.
How he came to be
here
up a bloody gum tree
gun in hand…staring
waiting for a man
to kill.
Same bloody thing.
Simple bloody plan!
Waiting 3 days now
and no
man.
“Keep your position
...over.”
“Maintain radio silence.”
“Report in when job done.”
“Roger ok that
...over
