Pin




I took a word, removed the pin,
then threw it over No Man’s Land,
counting the seconds till the blast
announced that I’d unleashed my plan

to A to Z the dictionary,
to pluck each entry, one by one,
to hurl it at the enemy
to kill or maim, or simply stun –

but on the final page I sensed
silence would never compensate:
others would labour secretly
to help new words proliferate

and fill the trenches on both sides
while I could only watch and mourn
the fragile peace I’d know would end
when they fixed bayonets, at dawn.

Tom Vaughan

If you have any thoughts about this poem, Tom Vaughan would be pleased to hear them