Morning on Savoy Road

He went into battle
with her
against all odds
as the statistician who rant, so go
a wet morning mist in alt-wedding shroud

she
and him in a quiet grey
shouting a French war cry
in red fringe
in contrast
sharpened blackened muddened streaks
a guinea's camouflage
words of warm whiskey thrown
from tongue to tongue
masked
to the wide world
a history
   only some southern poet can write

beggars on their knees praying in the grass
for copper
hoping to catch stock from the drizzle
add it to the gumbo fiasco tango
crack of the oppressor's whip
knotted wrist of hemp
smash
the villains of old conflicts alive again

drown us, Capitaine
waving your white flag
on mount in saddle flush
   above the sugarcane
these Catholic theatrics
the bandit lovers
nemesis combatants on the long march
he went into battle
with her
by his side.

TA