Is it true they were ploughing the soldiers
into the ground? An arm, bearing a watch
telling all the time in the world; a face
and a boot indistinguishable in their
hardness; a mathematician moving
towards infinity; a weaver soon lost
in the intricate criss-crossing of bones
uncovered by blades slicing meat to
the soil. There was quiet that hung
like a yoke on the day and numerous
winds which did not join as they
travelled the churn of the furrows smelling
fresh and of sweat, of urine-wet cloth and
the hub-bub of small things. A worm,
a beetle, unconsciously hunting
fear in a shocked eye and mouth
swindled of air. Ears filled. Fingers and
legs broken. Wives with love misgiven
on this day because it can only be given
to the living; reality great and emphasised
by their love, the chaperone of pain and not
a man to be seen to remark, buried not
your sins, yet the dead are covered.
But in that hole in the field dug with
conscience averted they left space —
for pathos; space for those who have
not yet spoken. They are marching
through blood — I hear them — Listen! —
phrase that follows only my footprints:
Is it true...
BY MTC CRONIN
MTC Cronin has had six books of poetry published, the most recent being Talking to Neruda's Questions and Bestseller (both Vagabond Press, 2001). Another collection, My Lover's Back, is forthcoming in 2002 (UQP). She is currently working on a PhD, Poetry and Law: Discourses of the Social Heart, and has recently received an Established Writers New Work Grant from the Australia Council for the Arts. Her books are available by contacting her at: <margie_cronin@hotmail.com> or ph: (02) 9550 2918.