What is it about us 

        that we can't just make an end?
        spit in our palms and part
        like frank and easy soldiers
        call it a good campaign, and done
        and turn for home;
        but that we have to turn again
        engage in one last, lost charge 
        grapple hand-to-hand 
        with barbs and bayonets 
        where passions pierce the flesh
        'til worn down by the cycle
        of war and reconciliation
        too weary even for regret 
        we sigh and breathe "enough"
        sow every memory with salt
        leave the waste of space between us
        our own private Carthage.


        Caron Andregg  (3/98)