Every one of these stories is true,
with embellishment, serifs, flourish, gilded marginalia,
Christmas lights. Any allegory is your own:
labyrinths, underworlds, good vs. evil,
man vs. nature or man or what have you.
I document from shadows of my isolation chamber.
Why ride a horse into battle when I can walk
in the other direction? Let me say this, share:
I have history, but no right answers:
Frederick Remington furnishing pictures;
you get to furnish the war.
Here are my photos. Aren’t they lovely?
All those bodies, all that blood in black & white?
If you believe I’m innocent, I am. Monstrous, too.
No judgment here. I’ll leave that to you.
Ace Boggess is author of four books of poetry, most recently I Have Lost the Art of Dreaming It So (Unsolicited Press, 2018) and Ultra Deep Field (Brick Road Poetry Press, 2017). His writing has appeared in Harvard Review, Mid-American Review, RATTLE, River Styx, North Dakota Quarterly and other journals. He received a fellowship from the West Virginia Commission on the Arts and spent five years in a West Virginia prison.