Scotland The Brave

A crippled radio plays “Scotland
The Brave.” Anyone know
the words?

It is dark
and wet out here, warm as toast
or hell’s impression. Again,

does anyone know the words?
The names of the players,
the sense of the night. Empires

are hurled, grey stones rotate
through the white air. Like
the evening’s questions, the lyrics

skirl about on a lone bagpipe’s wail;
does anyone know the words, really
and truly, like they know their own?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
onward,
T