A bit of war poetry
read by featured poets
Brought it back to me
that night on the floor
Each of you with the pursed Abbott lips
She with worried angry eyes
you with wild in yours
Out of place without him
in your dining room, the center of family activity
(after the kitchen)
Now your bedroom
I started from sleep, upstairs
heard her call for help
Because you wouldn’t bend to her will
Let her assist you that time
I struggled behind you
caught your limp thinning arms
under the pits, forcing both of us up
Pull of my back against your dead weight
Putting you back to bed, your red splotched arms
loose skin and anger
The loss you were fighting
Your dignity, independence, your mind
Knowing even in the losing
What was being lost
She brushed her hand now
against your brow, your hair
After the struggle
Sliding in beside you in bed,
Where he had been for those years
In the room with the wallpaper he hung,
with the creaking boards and corner hunch
Where we all shared so much
Seven children, spouses, countless children
Fifty of us on one Thanksgiving alone
Seeing you there, labored breath
Unease, knowing a piece of the terror
When you had snapped your face to mine
When I was on the floor behind you
Struggling to help you
Maintaining your pride
on the floor.
August 18, 2004 21:53
(Raymond A. Foss)
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