Editor’s Note: Kerry Arquette’s book of poems, War Cries: Unheard Voices, Unmarked Graves is now available for pre-order here.

Resistance via artistkerryarquette.com

Behind my tiny, tidy house,

Within the picket fenced-in yard

Beneath the rich and fertile soil,

I planted many lovely things.

Like turnips, onions, carbine rifles,

Oiled pouches filled with maps,

A bin of vouchers to buy food

For hungry, frightened, hidden Jews.

Behind my crepey, wrinkled face,

Beneath my white-haired, tidy bun,

Inside my nodding, bobbing head,

I stored the many facts I heard

When soldiers’ mouths began to wag,

Not guessing that a sweet-faced crone

Would understand the plans they made

And hand them on to allied knights.

Inside my lovely little house,

Within my spare and lonely room,

Behind my bony, blue-veined hand,

I giggled like a teenage girl

At all the strutting, silly fools who

Think the biggest, brightest box

Is sure to hold the diamond ring,

And covers tell a volume’s worth.