The steam that rises from the shell
Mists up the scope lens
A steady hand etches a heart
Through which the other bleeds
A tattered pass absorbs the flood
Inches from the silent hand
That reached beneath his thread bare coat
A white flag not received
The towel-head becomes another scratch
A tally of the toll
A line on the barrel of a hired gun
No space for numbers here
A dog-eared girl
Watermarked in red
Stares up from the inner cover of the pass…
… daddy won’t be coming home tonight
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem