Maggie Butt

It’s Just

It’s just a cold, dear.
We all have colds.
the laundry flutters with our handkerchiefs
flags of surrender.

It’s just a cough, dear.
We all have coughs.
A thousand hacking men who bark
all night, keeping sleep at bay.

Do I look thin, dear?
We all look thin.
The fish is sometimes rotten
and it twists within our guts.

It’s just a life, dear.
We all have lives.
Some spill them in the trenches
others in a cage.

It’s just a war, dear.
We all have war.