Going Over the Top

Among the brick stacks at Cuinchy,
Between Ypres and the Somme,
Death came roaring overhead.
The dead followed, jostling on.

Shades of fallen soldiers
Drifted through tangled wire,
Cowered in smoking craters,
Comrades in harm.

Last night I saw an angel
Stretched across the
Eastern Sky.
Its head was circled with starlight,
Wings trailed a bloody blush.