Billie Boy
by Harry Reynolds
[ poetry - january 08 ]
He woke on Sunday morning
By night he was in a bag
What you have not seen you cannot feel
My boy Billie died in Baghdad.
Press your ear to the ground
Did Billie yell my name?
Did he call out for his mother
Did he think it was a game?
Did he swear you all to Hell,
As you took his body from where he fell?
Lock the door,
Paint the windows black,
I'm going to the attic
And I won't be back
I'll go through all the photos
You'll find them at my feet
Lying next to Billie
In that desert heat.
