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Soldier Settlement

Mae Vanderschaar

Nov 01 2013

1 mins

 

Our neighbour gave us his Bulletins

When he had finished with them

And my mother put them in the oven

Before they could be read.

 

(Which is why I always remember

Those tall pink covers charred.)

 

My mother said he lived alone

In his wooden two-roomed hut—

Bed bugs and lice would no doubt lurk

In any house like that.

 

But now I know she baked them

Because, as all the mothers knew,

Joe Hutchens was certainly not well

And what he touched was probably unclean.

 

He coughed and spat all through the night

Blood and pus around his bed

Out of lungs damaged by poison gas

Breathed in at a battle on the Somme.

 

Mae Vanderschaar

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