rommel 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