WAR

War expiated
your lips
as a wounded veteran
sits next to me
on the 66 bus
leaning with Tolstoy
on my left elbow
with his lit up way
in his early twenties
with long suffering
written legibly
on this once optimistic
boy face
his back to the wall
in a huge brace
as time reddens
the loneliness
of your two crutches
he speaks in whispers
and hobbles away
at the next stop.