Islanders always like to baila,
party, party, nibble the ear
whispering, pump themselves
with arrack and go courting
on the Green, but in these
holidays at year’s end
dedicated to forgetting
the war and all those gadflies
buried in graves, some families
mourn their heroes away
from the headlights’ glare
of vans without license plates
that remain in service waiting
to be summoned when necessary.