To Carthage br then you came br br and other fabled places br br seen now only br through the lens br of War. br br Here br you are br in simple black & white br br playing football br with scrunched up rags br br camouflage tanks br your only spectators br br the horizon br a thin cruel line br of infinity. br br Desert rats br the thing of history books br to come br br now only br a bunch of laughing lads. br br The desert br everywhere about you. br br Young boys br pretending to be young men br pretending to be soldiers br br and not br succeeding. br br This br a game br played br for real. br br War has made you br so. br br I show you br you br br again & again br wearing the many faces br that you were. br br Death lurks br in every face br br looks out of br your eyes br br with the knowledge br that it could be br br you now br br you br this time. br br Photos br taken then br br Time br stopped still. br br I see so many br bright eyed young man. br br Their youth br their most notable feature. br br “Dead...dead...dead! ” br you intone br br in place of names br br as if it hurt br to name them. br br But I know br from other times br br that this dead man br is John. br br This one Fred br your best best friend. br br Even now you talk of him br as if he could walk in the door br br at any time. br br The door br forever closed br br The last photo br shows br br an insect br crawling br br in a dead br animal’s skull.