Robyn Groth
ever since the war
began and the clank
of bloody armor
soaking in the creek,
where we would wash
our clothes and take
our baths and wish
for the breeze of spring,
where now the banshees sit
with their rags, scrubbing,
scrubbing the breastplates
of the soldiers fated to die,
while their sweat falls
to the fields and we
at home till the soil
and plant the wheat,
all the time soiling
our clothes with sweat
and mud and wondering:
If they’ll ever stop –
when somebody will win,
or lose, or even give up
so we can do laundry again.
Robyn Groth writes science fiction and fantasy poetry and short stories. She has a M.A. in linguistics and believes in lifelong learning and autodidacticism. She lives in the Midwest with her husband and three sons. Her work has been published or is forthcoming in Pantheon Magazine, Star*Line and Scifaikufest. Read more at robyngrothwrites.wordpress.com.