We’ve had one hell of a winter:

the city frozen over;

ice stealing our power,

breaking our trees, starving our birds.

We fought back with salt

shot across our streets,

its inner fire ate with zeal

the cold siege engines of the enemy.

We paced for months our pavement

stained white with winter’s blood;

coming home we tracked in

bits of ammunition.

Now we dine in springtime

with Captain.

He salutes us at the door

and eyes our filthy boots.

We are so dirty, gory.

Food can wait.

He spit shines our feet.

Dries them on his uniform.

At table Captain says,

Gone are war and winter.

Eat. Drink.

Pass the salt:

it’s for pleasure’;

now no more a weapon.