February: Year-day 53

                                  
                                     
February: Year-day 53

[ George Washington is the central figure in this
    sonnet, but the story related is not true. ]


And then there was this fellow named George.  Oh,
he was a general sort, though his tough mind--
well I remember it.  Valley Forge.  Snow
and starvation.  We slept together.  Kind
of him to have me.  Didn't at all care
he scratched and bit.  That winter wasn't pleasant
to any there: least, him, facing the air,
the dead, and each one's desert of the present.

No, I'm not saying he's better than most,
though it's certainly not rum to accept
defeats such as those.  I wouldn't want to.
Couldn't.  George didn't give a holy host
either many times, spitting his gall-kept
words at us: flapping/ like a rotten boot.

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