Christmas 1968

the whole hospital hurt.
my bed hugged a corner
and the ward ached
away from me.
endlessly away.

I remember Nurse Merz,
who saved my leg,
and Fender,
who lost his.
mine was a small world.

we had clean sheets.
no one wanted to **** us
at night.
it was Christmas.

after rounds,
the medics
brought us shots of whiskey
in dosage cups.

far away to the south,
the hills
were swallowing people up.

I almost slept
without dreaming.

                              
                             (106th. Army Evacuation Hospital
                              Kishine Barracks
                              Yokohama, Japan)

memory sleeps
beneath time’s blanket,
closes its eyes,
and disappears in dream.

life is leveled, edges beveled
smooth and regular.
days pass.

thirty-seven years later
a helicopter is shot down
in Afghanistan.

men are lost

and fear chokes me
again, high above hills and jungle,
taking fire from below,
a Chinook just like theirs,
frantic to fly
away.

1.
a woman’s laughter
unravels any plan.

2.
a woman
naked in the dark
cannot be explained.

3.
a woman’s hands
possess magic

4.
a woman *******
moves like water
over stones.

5.
a woman
with her eyes closed
changes a man.

6.
a woman
with her eyes open
changes a man.

7.
in the winter
a woman’s hair
is softer than snow.

8.
a woman
in flowered pajamas
doesn’t need words.

night
under jungle canopy
was dark as a cave.

at twilight
you crept
two hundred meters out
from the perimeter.

you and another.
the radio,
two claymore mines,
M-16s-three clips each-

half a dozen grenades,
pop-up flares,
and four canteens of water.
fear fed thirst.

you opened two packets
of instant coffee,
spilled them into your mouth,
washed them down,
and felt your head jitter
all night long.

there was always sound.

jungle rats or snakes,
maybe even tigers,
or NVA probing the lines.

if there were many of them,
you sent up the flares,
fired into the dark,
detonated the claymores,

and were the first to die.

(I was M-60 machine gunner with the Ninth Marines in South                
                  Vietnam, 1968.    LP is a military acronym for ’listening post.’ )

lifetimes ago
the lakes froze shut.

the falls stopped.
wind blew backwards
and snow boiled up from trees.

it was too cold
for travel,
despite the belief
in winter passages.

great difficulties
presented themselves.

it was said
that birds froze
in the air,
but no one knows.

records were not kept.