Gary Jacobson


Each battlefield has its own unique smell
Lingering with pungent perfume to define it well
Hanging in Cimmerian shadow’s to forever dwell
Ponderous in dim mists of acrid smoke cankered
With noxious cordite this biting blend stirred
Sweat, gunpowder, and caustic blood merged
Stagnating sweet-and-sour on fractured ground
Abiding still in solemn quiet without a sound
Hov’ring mournfully tart o’er quiet din
Funereal where deadly fighting’s been.

Malignant battle stains the land so deeply ingrain
That a thousand rains cannot wash out the pain
That to this day soldiers bind
Slings and arrows suffered in the fevered mind
Dinky dau snatches of memory collect
Forevermore to reflect
Rendered again-and-again recalled in infamy
By those who tell battle’s fabled story
Remembering dark melancholy covering the park
With rank perfume bricky dark.