pound-sonnet-2

To-day I thought — what boots it what I thought?
Poppies and gold! Why should I blurt it out?
Or hawk the magic of her name about
Deaf doors and dungeons where no truth is bought?

Thought:

“Mountain air in our lungs, a hearty sausage-and-home-fries, fire cooked meal inside us both. A last wipe of oil along our bolt action Berettas — the two big bores we’ve entrusted for our try at the trophy racks.”

Beretta catalog | 1984

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