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.