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RHP excerpt from Pooled Ink contest of Northern Colorado Writers

primal contentment

like a burly elegant pirate

behind an English mustache and gritty eye patch,

Sir Adrian could summon little

from The Book, abandoned in rubble,

of Common Prayer to parry

why he fought,

why overlooking, one-eyed,

at downtown London in Nazi shambles,

steeping a dirty World War II tea bag

on a broken veranda

smoldering, Carton de Wiart

self-knowing it was that he was there

—England there—

instead of another empire

—always rising or falling—

convinced that there is never a time

to not fire an always weapon

into the always someone

always asking for it


— S. Hays, “commendations for the soldier Sir Adrian Carton de Wiart: dis-civilization and its contentments”

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