there is silence sandwiched between silence
thanks to the sudden cessation of their croaking
as if a plague took them, but it didn't
nor were they sleeping, nor were you,
at 0300 hours--you were between guard towers,
with an M60, and a hunger for sound
though you were picky about your song;
you longed for their familiar cadence, for
their green belched reassurance
that they would lay more eggs in the mire
and tails would grow, the swimmers would
become singers of familiar verse
but you could not wait for a resurrection
you did not know would occur--your duty would end
at dawn, and by then you could be dead deaf
from their silence
Aug 16, 2016
Aug 16, 2016 at 3:37 AM UTC
there is silence sandwiched between silence
thanks to the sudden cessation of their croaking
as if a plague took them, but it didn't
nor were they sleeping, nor were you,
at 0300 hours--you were between guard towers,
with an M60, and a hunger for sound
though you were picky about your song;
you longed for their familiar cadence, for
their green belched reassurance
that they would lay more eggs in the mire
and tails would grow, the swimmers would
become singers of familiar verse
but you could not wait for a resurrection
you did not know would occur--your duty would end
at dawn, and by then you could be dead deaf
from their silence
Tay Ninh Province, 1967
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