Peace was at first war: old battle-implements the sword beaten to plough was yet to come:
Pure Northland I live in now
reminds me of war unscrolled
naily boot-light:
Belgian combatants, Passiondale."Glass-Smith & Co." rolls past in icy air up here.
The sheer glass frames nothing
against freeze
ice coming
greater than Environment Canada
foretold:No pacifist can turn back
a market where souls are bought & sold
(And the war called "Civil/")No peace
until we cross the Mercy
looking-glass pale
we write the poem
without the fun: spirit
to fight with spirit
alone as sky caught in mirror glass:
Battle with the soul
tooth & nail.