We walked between the corpses of fallen trees
after the twilight of a great storm.
The broken limbs of long branches
already piled up neatly
in their own way.
On my arm I held the remnants of an old weapon
the battered stock of a shotgun
broken in half.
We strode confidently through the clearing fog
talked of civility
and due course
what mattered was the justification of our actions.
(here or furthermore)
We weren’t yet bold enough
to admit our focus
not to each other
not to ourselves.
walking through the remnants of
a particularly terrifying carnage
calm as can be
that would have to be enough
of an admission