by Martin Ott
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You could be getting knighted or holding a ring,
the sun lined up squarely in the sights of your throw.
I have worn a uniform, positioned flags at half mast,
and aimed a rifle in the air while caskets are lowered.
You could be praying or imagining how white stripes
press down on blood lines basking in a field of stars.
They are balancing on caps that could break in battle,
warriors throwing themselves at the one holding on.
You could believe in silence that speaks to us in mass.
Wind whipping our flag is the same no matter the stand.
Martin Ott’s most recent book is Spectrum, C&R Press, 2016. He is the author of seven books and won the De Novo and Sandeen prizes for his first two poetry collections. His work has appeared in more than two hundred magazines and a dozen anthologies. He tweets and blogs.
Martin Ott’s most recent book is Spectrum, C&R Press, 2016. He is the author of seven books and won the De Novo and Sandeen prizes for his first two poetry collections. His work has appeared in more than two hundred magazines and a dozen anthologies. He tweets and blogs.
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