Using verbs that bite, the cold period stands
in before the troops. Snow is on the way:
we tell our fathers that we love them. He spies
a spear on the hard ground. Never give up
your weapon, he says. Destroy it or bury it

If you are about to be captured. The maps
are being redrawn as he speaks, drunk with
promises of victory. Even if I decide it's time
for a haircut, newspapers proclaim the dawn
of a day that will never reach its own edges.