by David A. Goodrum
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To cover the battlefields.
To soften the blows.
To fill the caskets with snowmen.
No blizzard to interfere
with news transmission, offer
the comfort of momentary quiet.
The country drifts
into one war then another.
There will never be enough snow
to blanket the lies of politicians,
which seep out like the blood
of eviscerated rabbits.
Whichever way the wind blows
there is never enough snow
to level-fill the trenches.
There is always a hollow
a depression that shows
where the civilians are buried.
David A. Goodrum is the author of Abrupt Edges (Bass Clef Books, 2025), Vitals and Other Signs of Life (The Poetry Box, 2024) and Sparse Poetica (Audience Askew, 2023). Recent journal publications have appeared in The Orchards Poetry Journal (which awarded his poem “Winter Inquisition” a Pushcart Nomination), Cirque, and Triggerfish Critical Review, among others. David lives in Corvallis, Oregon.
