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Poems of Mac McAnear
The Black Horse

How rebuild the hovels
The places where we met
Markets where we haggled
With rancid rooms for let? 

Bombs through paneless windows
Exploding in open yards
Destroying all the traces
Where talked and played our cards. 

What brought them here healthy young
Whose eyes sharp and bright
Trained to kill the enemy
To use their awesome might! 

They size us up these well-trained men
Look for booby traps
Checking every nook and cranny
Then unfold brand new maps. 

So inclined we couldn’t fight
Too modern for our ancient way
Fervently wish they’d leave us alone
But who are we to say?

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