Frontlines

Portrait of invalid in sickbed. Portrait of

doting mother, grieving father. 

Portrait of family torn apart by body. Portrait of war. Wretched things. 

 

Letter to doctor. Letter to pastor. Letter to

surgeon, to shaman. Pen and ink and

blotting sand, stemming the blood. Letter to sanatorium. Wartime

correspondence. Munitions and medications. 

Took what we could get. 

 

Clean white room. Things shipped off. Last

stop on the midnight express. 

Portrait of letter sent by doting mother. Boxes out on trash day.

New office. Portrait of bandaged wound. Portrait

torn down the middle. Face scrubbed out. 

 

Portrait of three, down from four. Portrait of peace. New paint on old walls. Portrait of

Normal. Portrait of former sick bed. Portrait of body and family as one. Portrait of 

We don’t talk about that.