After The War

hustlers stalk the streets
hawk their mother’s pearls
their sister’s virginity
over and over
their daughter’s succulent
tipped up teats…

After the war, we’ll ignore our father’s failed vision
picnic at midnight
pose in purple robes
ride a stallion
eat fire.

On these nights, Shelia will cake her eyelids blue
dance on her back
wrap her legs around my waist
arch up
muscles tense
lick my belly

After the war, old men will tear their wives
from trailer parks in Galveston or Peoria
rev-up engines long left to rust
and hit the road.

Kids with one foot in the gutter will step to the plate, plant their
weight and hit a big one for mom and dad or step off the curb or run
into a cab or climb off the top rung or sail out
into another night

After the war, the thunder you’ll hear from the hills will be just that
thunder from the hills and rain.