POEM: Smoke

turrets turned as tires burned
forming a cloak of jet black smoke
oh hell! oh hell! for a tank shell
will pass right through, belching smoke of its own like a chimney flue
and when the wall is blown apart, and spall flies as from a cart of darts
I’ll long for naught, just I thought, while I wonder just what man hath wrought

One thought on “POEM: Smoke

  1. Pingback: POEM: Smoke – The Militant Negro™

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