Do you know the colour of war

Poetry | Agwam Kessington

our grandfathers

will sit down

on shifted hips

to tell stories of wars

& our brains

will refuse 

to assign

colours

to any

scene.

the film will glitch

& blood will be as dark

as our hearts

& shells will turn

human flesh

to sawdusts

on that field,

dreams and fatherhood

end.

& souvenirs come

in decorated boxes

with pieces of your father,

whom you will fail

to remember,

even when autumn

falls.