CECI N’EST PAS UNE PIPE

{my second Grandfather
as Rene Magritte

One of the things I’ll show you
Before we’re finished, is a pipe
That belonged to my second Grandfather

You can see the bite marks along the stem
Before he set himself against the Germans
Walking westward across no man’s land
Intent on harm, approaching in formations

Like dancers drilled to perfection

Fixed into memory, his machine gun rattling
Back and forth along the line, stumbling them
Into the afterlife, what there was of it, perhaps

Two angels waiting for latecomers
With a ledger and a watch

Until God declared, Enough
And closed heaven down for the duration.

Every evening, in the still and silent aftermath
He sat, my Grandfather, in his chair, the pipe
(he never actually owned a pipe)

Bitten down upon (frozen in reminiscence)

The painting by Magritte
is subtitled
The Treachery of Images

 

.

 

Steven Taylor

 

 

 

 

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