WAR SOUTH OF THE GREAT WALL

Delirium, battlefields all dark and delirium,

convulsions of men swarm like armies of ants.

A red wheel in thickened air, the sun hangs

above bramble and weed blood’s dyed purple,

and crows, their beaks clutching warrior guts,

struggle at flight, grief-glutted, earthbound.

Those on guard atop the Great Wall yesterday

became ghosts in its shadow today. And still,

flags bright everywhere like scattered stars,

the slaughter keeps on. War-drums throbbing:

my husband, my sons—you’ll find them all

there, out where war-drums throb and throb.