Beeswax Hero
He had his own concocted scent, his smell
Made up of khaki mixed with beeyard smoke—
And sorcerer’s words that cast a bedtime spell
With everything that stories can evoke.
His wife read books and these were wizards to
The brood, but though they held a fragrant charm,
Their odor reeked of bathtub and shampoo.
They just were not exciting like the warm
Blood of the Japanese platoon he’d killed,
Asplattering with his hard pitched hand grenade,
Nor like the bits of brains that had been spilled
Along the jungle path by GI raid.
..True, he’d never gone to the Pacific,
….But boys’ tastes incline to the horrific.