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.
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Mary McCabe 