From the Anthology
Veterans’ Voices
While in country, we
Made our home
in a bombed out
Palace. It was
Presidential with an
Olympic-sized
swimming pool.
Its garden grew
Rose bushes and
Sunflowers and
in the shade the
Sun blazed like
the tail end
of missiles.
We couldn’t wait
to invade the museum
and sacred places,
replacing GOD
with artillery.
On the balcony of the
Republican chateau,
we could see and hear
the Black Hawk hovering
over the horizon.
We could see and hear
the toppling of a regime,
where the distant firing
tracers became the
fireworks that reminded
me of home.
Celebrating war,
the bullets became bottle
rockets and the bombs
became playful things
right before one of
us had to die.
