Greg Sheppard

BOOTS

He walks toward me,
Boots dangling
Round his neck
a big smile a huge toothy grin
dawn turns his teeth ghastly
-you want NVA boots gi?-
the silence,
the morning mist
and I look past him to the wire

I see death,
pre-dawn hell,
Free boots
belts
death sprawled,
gathering flies,
no one moves
in unison.

so young

I turn away
to cry
to hide
to scream a silent scream
and move on.