|White Mountains of New Hampshire|
That's correct. This isn't my "bad poetry". I was in New England this spring, having a grand old time and, yes, writing in my little spiral notebook. I knew I was going to be bringing back "bad poetry".
But this one, while written there, isn't really mine. It was my notebook. I held the pen. But it's really Desiree's. It's her poem. Who is Desiree? My female protagonist in Snow.
Honor for Sale
They're selling honor and glory on the street corner,
Hawking them like precious wares.
And the price---the rock bottom price
Is the blood of your fathers, sons, and brothers
A few hundred body bagsT
Caskets to be unloaded on a western dock
A sister's tears--- a father's aching emptiness
A mother's son-less arms
A future caught in crossfire on a rice field
The skein of brightness, love, and laughter
Cut by a sniper's bullet---no Fates involved.
They're selling honor and glory on the street corner
Special offer today
Death half off or two for one
Your choice of bargains.
Elizabeth Desiree Williams
They say there's a little bit of yourself in every character you create. I'll say "Amen" to that. I can't deny it. But it's never more than just a piece or two. Desiree, quite obviously, is the poet of the bunch. And also writes 'bad poetry'.