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