you have stood resolute, fought alongside me.
I have drank to you on many an occasion
for you loved me like our country's pubic treeline;
a messenger of pride and servitude,
alive to any woman's leg show. Sworn in,
tucked away in my hidden valley
you were ripe as any forbidden fruit,
you who were always about bright and early,
a perky-headed recruit when time began;
though for you no priest's mark of revision,
skinned as natures leftover unclean act.
Later, on frenetic nights, I unleashed a wet habit,
a sudden pasture land lay underneath me,
the gun misfiring in its own territory.
Then I was paraded in front of the doctor.
So a lead was hitched up with a pad each night,
wired to a box to trigger me a warning,
the body awakened and us in cahoots,
enough times to work on our own behalf.
The patrol dismissed, we saluted each other.
You back as ever part of my landscape,
yet untainted like an unclimbed mountain,
the gun still in its holster.
What did those girlie playing cards do for you?
A secret professional away from the kit room,
that passing pleasure always kidding yourself
like those days on the range you went firing blanks.
Confined to barracks you awaited further orders,
you were always there when I needed you,
your gun fully-loaded, ammo as fertile ground
and what led to reinforcements. Once bridal
two warriors were in the making. Such fun.
They with water pistols at the ready.
But you were never the one for the shooting gallery,
you kept at your post and the only target you knew.
All this time a lone gunman in camouflage
crawled his way into my hidden valley,
living off his own rations to creep on,
undetected, making a mockery
of our love channel, with me in his sights.
His footfalls left behind much muck and dirt,
keeping going, further into the interior,
ever onward, but knowing there would be no return.
At last, both of you came out into a clearing
as if here you could size each other up,
guns loaded and cocked for a big show down.
So the tale goes, you gave as good as you got.
G. F. Phillips