The field gun
hidden behind a grassy bank and flanked by trees
manned by two men and an officer up to their knees in mud
did good!

It fired simultaneously
with a charge by the third infantry
Death stamped on the base of the eight pound shell
it smiled
into the face of Ben Fazackerly who came from Coventry
and Ben fell dead.
(and it has to be said..minus his head)

Perhaps Ben had seen some premonition
that he'd be killed by enemy ammunition
so on Wednesday the week before
he'd decided not to take the chance
of losing his new false teeth in France
and posted them with two weeks pay
to his wife and lover
Betty May

And Bet began to understand when she saw the postman
with the telegram come past the garden gate at ten past eight.
At five past two
the crying through
she went and made some tea.

With the teeth that Ben had sent
she turned the gas on
and bent with grief
she went to sleep.
Forever.