2014 11 – Poppies and Butcher Haig (poem)

POPPICIDE

 

When Butcher Haig sent them

over the top,

that throbbing meat,

cold steel against machine-gun heat,

sandwiched between earth and sky

to rot.

Then the Earl Haig Fund

and that red blotch pinned to

the chest

like a bullet-wound target request

from World War One.

As branded cattle they appear on the TV,

each dumb beast ready

to appease

that battlefield horror with ease.

The nation grins – suicide pleases?

 

Wilson John Haire.

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