What was it about the dust
That carved its way into my heart
That spoke the unspeakable words
Of the night
Endless tears that cause the air to stop
That break the stones
That whisper your name
He laid his field jacket across my lap, its green
arms hugging my knees. Soft with age, perfumed
with time, it was my introduction to Vietnam. How
had it felt? What medals, ribbons, metal letters
once pierced this cloth? Here was a history that couldn’t be read.
IMAGINE green trees and clear rivers
IMAGINE children growing up healthy
IMAGINE streets clean and safe
IMAGINE justice without having to pay for it
IMAGINE policemen just and honest
IMAGINE public servants who serve
He swallowed bullets,
A whole lung full of them. And
He got written about
In the national dailies.
All of twenty seven
Years old with an old father