Foot Soldiers

With two left feet
And two right moves,
I spell I love you.
Our velvet eyes glued.

We knew
Our final day was due,
A troop of vegetative lives
Yielded along a trench
Fatally awaiting bloom.

In beatitude
My tails sweep
As your eyes sign along the dotted line,
We press palms.
I raise my firearm,
Flip the hatch; stare into the barrel
And see your gaze return a picture of last winter.
The cool haze across the lake;
A company in arms,
Sharing some time alone.

Together, our ballroom glows
As I lead you through my liturgy,
Feet bitten by size tens.
A course sentence I’ve learnt to repeat
Strengthens the vow I’ve come to defend.
A waltz is all. A waltz is all.

Amidst shadows of well-timed words
Which join to abbreviated breaths
As the bridge came to an end and lead to a rest
My sweetheart,
The day we danced together
And dressed to look our best
I signal ‘Comrades go!’
Then follow,
Duck and cover
In a minefield of lovers lost.
Helmets steaming heavenly beads of sweat,
We kiss.
Then I lift you amongst the stars –
Beating down missiles,
We take to the aisle.
And it’s here I turn and see you smile,
An explosion by my side
That leaves me knowing
A dance had made it all

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Ed Hunte

Poet and Columnist at Global Poetry. United Kingdom

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