IN THE HEYDAYS OF HIS EYES
(taut jeans dancing)

An Anthology of Poetry about Being Young and Growing Up
 
 
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BATTLE WON IS LOST

Phil George

They said, "You are no longer a lad." I nodded. They said, "Enter the council lodge." I sat. They said, "Our lands are at stake." I scowled. They said, "We are at war." I hated. They said, "Prepare red war symbols." I painted. They said, "Count coups." I scalped. They said, "You'll see friends die." I cringed. They said, "Desperate warriors fight best." I charged. They said, "Some will be wounded." I bled. They said, "To die is glorious." They lied.

 
 
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