JOHN

JOHN

Ah, John,
the smoke got you

did what German steel
and flame
could not do

I saw you with
my big little eyes
down in your cellar worship
a year or
so
before you died

those same little big eyes
fastened on a Vickers
belt-fed machine gun
fastened high up
to that tall wall

what tale of fear and bravery
life or death it might
have been
able to tell me

if it could speak
    but you did not tell
me anything at all

whilst you found
wheels and plank and
purple paint for my push cart

coughing worryingly
as you worked:
such a together, purposive,
engineering man
       given his
mission requirements by
his youngest
daughter’s eldest son

my single real
abidng memory