i.
the dragonfly replaces thunder with the pounding of steel wings
causing an explosion of white dandelion parachuters over a muddy desert
riding a song for the forever-forgotten never-known dead

click, click, boom; and boom reverberating
and whistling of fatal firecrackers corkscrewing to stars smothered
with
black fog
        silhouettes projected by cold fire
        reveal the enormous fragility of man

click and boom;
one less silhouette dancing

ii.
and here I’ll sit,
poet of war,
behind my walls
pretending to know of dragonflies
or death
or anything at all

click;    and boom