TELEGRAM

She burns
the words.

Kills them
with fire.

Death dies
in the flames.

But the words stil
stand there in the air.

Even now
in her old age.

The words
written in flames.

She misses the future
she never had with him.

She cries that he never
saw his child.

THE SECRETARY OF WAR
DESIRES ME TO

( she holds it until
it burns her fingertips )

EXPRESS HIS DEEP REGRET THAT
YOUR HUSBAND  PRIVATE....

( how dare they
even say his name )

WAS KILLED IN ACTION
ON THE 15TH OF JULY

( the black smoke brings
tears to her eyes )

IN FRANCE
LETTER FOLLOWS