4 July 11
From over the ridge, chrysanthemums of fire
burst into color. One hears the pop-pop-pop
of another birthday, but the heart is flat champagne.
Who cares about freedom, and Damn King George?
Who cares about sirens out in city lights?
I've got enough to fight about right here,
the howitzer let loose inside my ribs,
the thudding ricochet from hill to hill,
from hurt to hurt. Hard birth. Hard coming to.
David Mason
And this on Literary Jukebox
