At Stake
Let paper fly
and light the cross-hair
Let gas sink
from weight and let
this day remind us
of what was at stake
before we both quit
began exploring each
the day yours went cold
was like the day I will die
like the day this field is cleared
of these straight soldiers
They’ll drop their guns
and scream “We don’t trust.
We anymore trust!”
(from Alex Smith’s Lux, p. 49)