Tag Archives: wound

Grenade

We are awake Still and Sitting in the dark Of our living room, Talking about it Again, About getting out or staying in, In the military, How we are in the military And I want to get out. And we … Continue reading

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Fall

Iraq, I tell my husband, As we stand in our kitchen, Where he is holding a knife In his hand and strawberries In his other hand, That he grew in the garden He planted when He came home from war, … Continue reading

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Needles

I tell my husband how I saw needles, Hypodermic and laying, On the side of the road, Dumped there from a trash can Overturned on trash day. Which side, my husband asks me, And he is looking at our bed, … Continue reading

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Free

Today it is the Fourth of July, And when my son finds me In the hallway, asking why, I tell him about independence And how it means being free. But I already know, how Tonight we will walk down Dark … Continue reading

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Rounds

A soldier is standing in the darkness Next to a door, next to a compound, Holding his M4 close to his body like A child, and it is Because there is an insurgent inside, And he tells himself That all … Continue reading

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Pronoun

I am sitting in my station wagon, Thinking about pronouns, or how When my husband came home, The men from Afghanistan would Write my husband letters, saying, Come back, How they would ask him, To bring his wife, his children, … Continue reading

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Birthday

When you came home from war, You gave me a stone shaped like a heart, A piece of rock mined in Afghanistan, That you bought in a marketplace in Kabul, Before they sent you home to America, A stone called … Continue reading

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