Shermans troops stopped
by a train en route to
the industrial park

men crowd a laptop
at roadside leaning
on their weapons

Arab cowboys with
strange clerical dreams

bone children eat soft fruit
on shag grass
near the marble canals
watching

militia clear the field
sweeping well into the treeline
their animals breathe
fear into the cold air

Arriving at a ruined
Chalet destroyed
a great hall razed
blood motto on the lintel
'AWASH IN HELL'

wind blows through the chapel
leaves pile on the sanctuary

whiskey or wine or gasoline
on the altar a vaulted carcass
cools quietly
the wind stops
in respect of consecration

a woman is found
hung in the garden

the purveyor of some vain
midwestern fad truly
with hard times befallen

it is obvious now
ruination calls for a party
one without bread

glasses poured and soured
incensed with filth
another purge beginning