Playing Dead

standing in a queue to collect our costumes a chorus 

line smiling (what you grinning at lad)

on parade (smarten up) chest proud

(right two three

and turn two three)

we felt like dancing girls

only ‘till christmas it’ll be a pantomime (i think 

we were the arse end of a cow) a tour of france

a song and laugh as we waved from the train

just time to to fix bayonets then be home again to sing 

of goodwill to all men on earth     

roast chestnuts    

holly wreaths and a mistletoe kiss

we acted out our orders leaving a script to loved ones

tucked into the sand bags of the pits before

stepping on to the boards for our matinee performance

the conductor lifted his baton

in full voice we charged crying with stage fright

into the footlights of the winter sun and an overture 

of machine guns

we walked tall 

centre stage

into no mans’ land

and the clapping artillery and the front row’s aim

no star performers

no headline acts just haig’s troupe 

with a cast of thousands

(cue) mortar applause

(cue) poppy bouquets

then the final curtain falls

© 2006  P.A.Levy

First published by Forward Poetry for In A Flanders Field Anthology  2014