Dear Ellie,

the days are long, the nights
even longer. I witnessed them pass
again. I gnaw my teeth, stuff
my heart down lungs and hear others
unleash a howl, roaring at
fireworks scarlett in sin.
They fall around me;
drifting leaves amongst the
sulfur winds that pass in autumn-
but it is winter.
Here, down south, they promised
warmth to hope, but the frost
creeps your spine, masks
the unseen ill that sweeps the camp
swifter, deadlier.
I am on a tightrope, brandish
arms to slash ropes in front and
wonder if you hate me for chanting
your name in a prayer of strength
whilst a dance with death.
But I know better, and I relieve
in comfort that you, at least,
will remember.
Ellie, tell our people I pride our
maple though here's flag foreign like
the land it bores, and in our unit of
discolored minnows; drowning,
stubborn,

we fight.