Threatened,
the senile soldier grabs his defunct gas mask,
crems orders to his non-enlisted troops.
In record time, the brilliant sun and I
are overpowered by rolling, marching mist
that binds us in a thousand icy arms
and sends ten thousand damp, grey, chilly fingers
to search and find, obliterate all warmth,
accept our five-Fahrenheit submission.
Triumphant,
victorious fog stands fast; his reinforcements
exult along the far-off, fourth-off hill.
Copyright 1980 Ev McTaggart
Published in Symbols, the 1996 poetry publication of Canadian Authors Association, Niagara Branch
“The woman or man who is a poet, or fiction writer, or playwright, or all of these, is engaged constantly in a jazz ballet of vocabularies, passions, genders, histories, perspectives, death, love, and life. The music of revelation announces itself to
In the Whirlwind is a poetic storm that frees history from the cages of corruption and puts it in the hands of everyday people. Words are weaved into a new fashion statement that has nothing to do with runways but everything to do with projects!
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