the retreat from al alamein

 

rommelrommel knew he lost north africa

for whatever the reason: stalingrad,

montgomery, a few tanks of fuel

 

o’ for a few tanks of fuel

 

he stared at the sea as the afrika korps

sowed devil’s gardens

in coral sand behind him

 

intricate plantings

 

that when they bloomed they unmade men,

and strung them on trellises of barbed wire

in neat rows like marionettes

 

he took a deep breath

 

considered the desert laid out to the sea

said a prayer to gods of his father

for his men and his country

 

he did not mention his boss

 

the field marshal knew loving gods

can’t choose sides. he prayed for montgomery,

alexander, stumme, and bastico, too, and their soldiers

 

the fight already ended

 

on a hill beneath skies at tel el-eisa,

there are no sides, good or bad,

just desert and sea, scorpions and gulls

 

and men asleep in ossuaries, vaults full of stars