Stories sans Glory

The Great War for women was far away

their lives and limbs apart from the fray

sacrificing breadwinner,  lover or son.


In World War II the joke would go:

Those who want to be a hero

add up to the sum of zero.

Those who want to be civilians

total somewhere in the millions.


Exploding to encompass billions,

safer soldier than civilian

World War III will know no zones.


War zone women since the world was made
have gleamed on men’s breasts on the victory parade.

Trophies, tributes, surrender tokens.


Trading for better or for worse

the master who in home tones cursed

for a lord whose commands were the snarl of a beast.


Y chromosome labels you hero.

Double X the target below.