Michael Brett, 'The Exhumation of the Serbian Dead'

[duathir.livejournal.com]

The Exhumation of the Serbian Dead
(as their forces retreat) 1995

The dead demand our loyalty.
They shout from books and paintings, pose
Fashionably in marble, naked
Or draped in togas, uniforms,
Ostrich feather hats. They blurr
With the living. The religious say
They're still alive,
Looking over our shoulders at breakfast,
Floating above us from operating tables.

And here they come, the beloved:
Love for them sharpens this world to delirium
Even on the backs of trucks,
Below tarpaulins, lurching with shovels.

At dusk, like jewels in a treasure chest,
More towns burn. In the Odyssey, the dead
Crave blood and are able to tell the future.

By Michael Brett