Cross Country
A reluctant concession
For those of insufficient bulk
Or violent disposition
To take part in the awful
Battle of blood and mud
Laughingly referred to
As a game.
Unsupervised
Our route wound
Far away from
The killing fields
Past gasworks
And railway lines
Through the village.
Once out of sight
A walking pace
Cigarettes
Sweets
Talking to local girls
Cursing the brutality
Of the egg shaped ball.
Then returning
To the jeers
Of shirt ripped
Casualties
Our mock exhaustion
Too dramatic
Fooling no one.
David Subacchi lives in Wales (UK) where he was born of Italian roots. He studied at the University of Liverpool and he has three poetry collections with Cestrian Press First Cut (2012), Hiding in Shadows (2014) and Not Really a Stranger (2016). David has also recently published a collection of Sonnets A Terrible Beauty in commemoration of Ireland’s 1916 Easter Rising. He also writes in Welsh and Italian and blogs at http://www.writeoutloud.net/