The Road They Will Leave By

The Road They Will Leave By


The frost splinters silver the country road I walk on,
robbing the elders I pass of their laughter, 
their breath drifting in thin torn strands.
	
My soldier’s camouflage does not protect me
from the long muscle of their memory,
tightening as I pass.
	
I am not spared their sharp chants,
the cruelty of their kicking pebbles at my shins, 
each strike a small hard report.

I will leave on the road I arrived,
listening for the locking of their doors, 
the metal catching with a dry scrape in the dusk.