They Detonated

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Another round for the soldiers
Old though they may be
They can still stomach scotch
And sour-mash whiskies.
All their promise in youth
Weakness in old age
Once their danger has rusted
Let the blazing-eyed stares
Just fade away

Steer clear of the widows
Their domesticized trappings
Are merely subterfuge
They have sick minds, hatching
Bitter decreptitude
Blossoms all, wilted
Now their homes are dusty
The Fifties' moms rot in wheelchairs
Roll them away

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