The Corp (A Riff)) Poem by David McLansky
The Corp (A Riff))
A soldier in a pointless war
Stands his watch, a useless chore,
There to guard, to hold the line
Of politicians drinking wine;
After pictures are forgot,
In jungles, deserts, left to rot,
Their bones melt into sandy earth,
They're compost in their final worth.
Saturday, January 12, 2013
Topic(s) of this poem: soldier
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8/29/2026 4:58:03 AM # rel_20260827T145718Z_a0f1bd3
