who is the enemy
-for a fraction
for the rest in peace-
as the forces eastward-ho go?

inflating common hope
as the hot air slopes of winter
melt down gold medals
with starting guns and drug run hurdles
this
para-peace keeping friction contact
-stike a light-
a match 
that set a thousand worlds alight

Slaves in our own country,
to our own destiny
be blue,
happy 
forcing flags to fly where troops lead
and we, their shadows follow.
Out they pull their fingers: "ouch"
as everything falls apart
from situation to situation
from potential to disaster
and back again 
pieces together fit cracked
dragged into something from which escape appears
vanishing point fantastic
on either side
of a great gouging jigsaw line drawn in the sand
in which sink and slide bare feet.

23/2/02

m. dunlop