My son parachutes
into a zone

I think

as his mate chats
from another place

and they exchange advice

It is another vernacular
‘Let’s go greasy’ is agreed

Talk of killing and guns
is no different to my games

over Easter fortnight
forty-five years ago

when our cold war was
a whispered fear

and our battles were real
making bruises

and blood
off loaded pebbles and sticks