We would count our boys into war After their six week basic training Just so we can tick the box Just so they can play soldiers Just so they can tell their grandkids they played soldiers And tasted mud And felt the burn Of old rope And the bone-chilling Damp pushing past Knock-kneed Blind-Thirsty From the salt sweat brass blood on warm days And knowing firsthand The science of acid Lactating screaming joints And weeping having stabbed The dummy Fixed bayonet Up through the throat For fear of the need to practice Then the call-up Heading for enemy shores Pressing sweat into their bibles Trembling away their training The world a swinging mirror But in the distance they see Blue Yellow Red Green Blue Yellow Red Green Blue Yellow Red Green Not a beach Of sand or pebbles But of dots laid out ...