CIVIL WAR BICYCLE MESSENGER BRIGADE

crumbling letters with penny stamps
tell me of a boy, my grandfatherfather
fixed flats with bubblegum goo
and bent back stems and whittled
wooden spokes.

while slower than
cavalry all-out and always in need
of water water water, courier bag
was packed tight. the need to
deliver the mail was pure and right.

the mudholes would throw riders
of wheels, and bullets would burst
tubes more scarce than money, and
bears would eat the seat stuffing,
and chains would derail as freewheels
wore smooth.

but when the bridge was out
a plank would bring a stunt
across the river and the message
would know a swiftness,
a sweat-drenched racing heart