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32 Legal Stud. F. 551 (2008)
Poems

handle is hein.journals/lstf32 and id is 557 raw text is: BRUCE HESSELBACH Sentry, 1864 The campfire sputters into glowing ashes, as I stand rooted as a chilly pine. A meteor distracts me with its flashes and yet, for all its shooting, seems benign. Orion girds his brightly belted sashes. A barred owl's eyes are candles in a shrine. Above, the Dipper seems to lean and spill all his contents out on mortal men. How you pour for good or ill! I know you've poured out war, disease, and death for oh so long. Why don't you pour some milk, and then some peace? They say this bloody war's God's will. Your trail is quiet as the holy night, yet, if I nod, a bayonet just might remind me that a sentry never sleeps. And do you see the corpses laid in heaps? And is there some way out of all this gore? And might there come a time to fight no more? I hear the breezes rustling in the birches and then some sparrows twittering their song. These shot-up woods and farmlands are our churches. The bandaged sunrise witnesses our throng of dead and wounded, and bewildered searches, of rests too short and dying throes too long. LSF 1 551