there was a boy(unbuttoned spine: tin)
             who sang bullets through teeth,        
             cough-stitched into boots—                      
             (mother would’ve                never                
                            known him in pieces)    

& you—  
             mustard! you crawling  
                    godless     yellowing yawn-    
             (you churchless warlock vapor  
             shuffling up his gullet  
                         like a borrowed hymn)        

he——  
             (let’s name him no one)              
             swallowed lungs like spoiled pears,      
             vines of cough wrapped around      
                                 his windpipe’s piano      
             & the keys stopped—one by one—        

click

     the music changed  

                                    —not into silence—    
             but into smoke  
                       a wordless opera:  
                 gasp.gasp.gasp.gone    

his eyes were  
             paperboats  
                       folding inward  

& the dirt applauded softly  
       in clouds of not-quiet  
          (a whistle wheezing past his ear)  
                 sergeant said: “keep walking”  
               but his knees said: “no more poems.”    

         (there are no metaphors in hell, just  
                 uniforms  
                         without skin)

:he dreamt once of  
                             lemons
     & a girl who     never      existed, probably—

he tried  
             to say goodbye  
    but found only  
               ash vowels &  
                        consonants with no  
                               consonance  

    (what’s the word for a throat  
               forgetting how to  
                            be?)    

his body un-wrote itself backwards      
             while the war kept  
                          typing    

                                      click
                        
                                            click
                                
             .                                                                                                                                              

             .                                                                                                                                

             .    

& the smoke  
             did not apologize.

I stand inviaible in the road.
Frozen in place.
Frozen in thought.
I have misplaced all sounds.

Soldiers pull their bleeding brother out an RG-33 vehicle
in a flowing current of hands and fingers.
gentle, urgent
They hand him off to a swarm of medics then collapse into a grieving cloud of cigarette smoke

The pants and boots—especially the boots—are coated thick with blood
so fresh, so bright
My mind defrosts, gathers a voice to shatter the silence
What a beautiful color

Who is the man weilding my gun
when time stops and holds its breath?
Cold hate runs in his veins—
steady, unflinching death.

Engines roar, radios chatter—
Silent! Vision, sharp and thin.
All existence is ending
the threat closing in.

Thumb pushes the safety—
click
Center mass. Steady. Hold breath.
Squeeze.

Who wore my skin?
Foe? Friend? Truly me?
Will I ever see him again—
Bold stranger, powerful-- fear free?

Grief enfolds her shoulders
and her eyes look down
at all of those soldiers
under the ground.

Her thoughts fly
to the shadows around
who softly pass by
and frost all the sounds.

Rows of flowers will bloom
in the yellow-blue colours,
feel the silence and gloom.
Will she ever recover?

Says whatever she wants,
looks in eyes through the picture,
has no hope for response,
prays as said in the scripture.

She'll come later, bring some sweet.
How could she accept - this is it,
nothing left to complete?

How can her heart beat, how?
She is left with a vow,
who will love her from now?

An indifferent look at the stone,
all next minutes unknown.
Will she be all alone?

No more silly jokes again.
Sadness bowed her head.
All his deeds are not vain.

Rows of flags wave her grief,
truth is hardest belief
which you've got to achieve.

Unfortunately, pits are still empty
waiting.

She quietly reads words on bands,
stands.

She will say about devotion,
implosion.

She talks but he will not talk back.
Fact.

He lies with his brothers,
she'll live with some other,
A life is a moment,
it's not her atonement,
she isn't that weak,
just fatigue.
--

Ukrainian:
Журба за плечі обійма
і погляд опустився.
Прийшла в життя її зима,
немов кошмар явився.

Думки летять її туди,
де тихо ходять тіні
і від замерзлої води
проступить білий іній.

Ряди квіток цвітуть завжди
у жовто-синій гамі,
прийдеш помовчати сюди,
під цими прапорами.

Кажи що хочеш і дивись
в ці очі крізь світлину,
за спокій тихо помолись,
надійся на спочинок.

Ще прийдеш потім, принесеш
солодкого й смачного.
Як прийняти, що це вже все
і не вернеш нічого?

Як серцю далі битись, як?
скажіть їй хтось як жити.
Чи зможе хтось її ще так,
так сильно полюбити?

Чи засміється ще вона
від радості єднання?
Байдужий погляд, бо одна
в тяжких переживаннях.

Не скаже більше він, на жаль,
своїх невдалих жартів,
схилила голову печаль -
вона тепер на варті.

Ряди за обрій прапорів,
що майорять від туги,
розкажуть істину без слів
про болі, про наруги.

Пустують ями ще, на жаль,
чекають побратимів,
яких віддати мають нам -
ми віримо - живими.

Слова типові на стрічках
вона читає тихо,
побачити б в отих словах
для цього болю вихід.

Сказала б ще раз про любов
і як його чекала,
та думка холодила кров:
вона цю долю знала.

Ще поговориш ти, та він
вже більше не озветься,
востаннє зробиш ти уклін
розірваному серцю.

Він не один лежить,
вона ж одна піде додому.
І день як мить,
і рік як мить,
життя як мить,
лиш втома.

it hurts in the heart
when heroes are have-nots
after giving their all,
what’s left that they’ve got?
how many more vets will fill their cupboards with clocks?
how many more lives will pay the exorbitant cost
since health ain’t free or sold at loss,
it seems it was long lost
in that place where the war was.

now we find folks forgot
how foes brought fights fought,
take for granted what they’ve got,
giving big deeds little thought
when honor is selfishly half-sought,

selfless?
it is not.

we’ve seen what that’s wrought;
far from the peace we sought
a figurative hell but its cold, not hot
it ain’t literal, but still its critical
and truly despicable,
to treat lifesavers worse than criminals.

Some things are learned,
but never taught
so now and then,
spare searching thoughts.
you think its work; but it’s really not.
So take advantage, ‘fore chance is gone.
hit your limit, and go beyond;
you’re never short, going long.
you have the right to prove doubt wrong.
we came from one; so every one belongs
the poor, the rich, the old, the young.

you cannot lead those you leave behind.
there’s a detriment to that design;
a colour outside of lines.
where mindless fools make fools lose minds
and in a sad state; they've sacrifice saints.
estranged, to a stranger they pray.
solemnly, some will say:

‘we’ve simply gone astray,
somewhere along the way’

but when wiser ways breed better days,
it’ll be known without seeing or saying it.
the truth will grow without need for feeding it.
felt in your bones and you’ll even be bleeding it;
it won’t be a boast to believe in it.

these simple self-reflections
spot ego-built deceptions.
as intermittent intellectual intervention
pares prideful, porous perception;
rescinding regression, it’s purely progressive.
and in immaculate conception,
loose leaved lines’ll lay
layered with lessons;
words weaved tired, but tested;
learned, not suggested.
wisdom writ better
than the best of them.
not rested,
’til the rest of them
appreciate what was given in
by heroes that have come and gone,
how hard done heroes have been honored wrong;
they were our foundation all along.

you see, it’s soldiers’ shoulders we stand upon

Lie down, soldier, lie down
Let the field lull you
You will become a spirit here
You will protect the land
And never leave descendants in evil.

Fly, soldier, fly:
You are free in heaven forever
Appear in thoughts, sanctify our will
And all of us, so just sever.

Let them fly, soldier
Songs in the abyss to you -
let them sound more bolder
let them tell what is true.

Lie down, soldier, sleep,
May you dream of well-being.

Happy and free
Fly with the gods
May you sleep happily.