Assemble before dawn
The threads of the tent-walls
stitch mildew where breath
lost itself in cold night air
Coating our bedrolls, the damp
will not dry in a world so chill
that birds refuse to declare themselves
The duty roster repeats:
fan the last coal in fires crumbled to ash
cook and scrub, dig latrines
in “well-drained soil”
as if planting potatoes
Find the potatoes
pick out the rust
from our joints and machines
We long to be free of everlasting damp
like ardent schoolboys for girls
and all the while a rumble spreads
the feel of far volcanoes
shifting in their cells
the magma gathers
the smoke will converge
not now
but soon
