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.

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