Everybody Else

A screenplay writer's first attempt at poetry.

In a city,
In a chair,
By a hearth,
Sits a man.
On the other side of the world,
In a city,
In a chair,
By a hearth,
Sits another.

Sodden under miles of a crying grey sky,
Leashes extend,
Held tight by those two men sitting comfortably on the other end.
Letting their hounds face off in a ruined town,
Fighting for a memory,
Lost deep underground.

One dog, a medic, sees a hound of nineteen,
whose shells had ran dry,
with cold, wet shrapnel,
Chewing on his spleen,
and urine trickling down his thigh.
The medic’s snarl had retreated,
Above his buried fangs shook a smile.

In a town,

Behind a tank,

The medic spared the hound's life,

And was rewarded from behind,

By an enemy's knife.

Author's Note

What you hated? What you liked?