the valley where the war was
is sunny. green stills blue from the ground
which is ash brown and groggy and dry.
this is not as pleasant a picture as I painted
on tuesday, june 19th when I took my brush there.
I didn't bring any paint. cinnabar had to do.
I painted the valley where the war was
all in red mercury,
red sulfur, red poison, it was
a dramatic day of scudding clouds
bright sudden sunshines and deep darkness.
the trees with their tall smoothnesses
and green exploding heads stood
politely over the brook that does not run
with blood--
only cinnabar, as I said.
bluegray cool rocks dip their skirts.
I dipped my brush.
a hawk wept overhead
filled with sadness it couldn't source
just as I am on tuesday june 19th
in the valley where the war was.