old armors
black and cracked,
asphalt where they hid and
phosphates at their wear
from particle war
as chaotic as a scene

hieroglyphs painted along old coffins
codifying death
and releasing life
into a common alphabetical formulation
that was organized
according to human lore
regarding cleanliness instead of sanctity
for christs sakes.

what happens
to all of those old soldiers
who slid down hills
in zippered combat boots
to lob explosives into concrete caves
for the sake of some industry lobby?

names at best to us
as we were beaten back
with the artillery of humility
and tricks of humiliation
that cut our garb off with scissors
before we saw our fabric

remember remember
old useless iron
wretched from dead gauntlets
and carried as fealty
to executed kings?
history books remain too boring
to teach us of women smoking sage
before shattering the earth of battle
with triumphant fires set to enemy siege engines
and old combats from the nurses station
applied to Russian fighter craft
spilling ammunition into ages

i could
say
that Mars
bedecked in Roman red
regally fucked humanity
in its first rites of divinity
and left us stranded