Poetry - page 8
• Close-out at the Army/Navy Store - Sherman Pearl
• Field of Play - Alan Rodman
Close-out at the Army/Navy Store
Imagine who’d you be in one of these uniforms-
the sailor who won WWII with that celebrated kiss
or a soldier standing honor guard
on Memorial Day. Or you’d parade down Main Street
in those marine dress blues, bombarded
by confetti. Plus we’ve got tons of memorabilia
in the back room, a veritable museum--
helmets with bullet holes, bayonets stained
by genuine blood, boots that trampled our enemies,
enemy ears preserved in jars.
We’ve got medals of honor, half-price today;
and swords that pointed the way in wars
that were matters of honor, settled by the blades
of gentlemen. And racks of fatigues
all dry-cleaned and pressed, all colors, all sizes.
Try one on, mister, and you’ll trade
that suit for an outfit that shows what you’re made of (epaulets thrown in free).
Can’t you see yourself camouflaged
in some remote jungle, sniping away at the rebels?
Think how great you’ll look for the ladies,
how they’ll love the new you.
Field of Play
I count not virtue gained, but brother lost
remembering the one who was so dear
release of friends has weighed too great a cost
but those are flown from me that once were near
Today, alone, against the wind I stand
and listen to faint murmurings of hope:
familiar footfall in a promised land-
his measured tread that broke into a lope
"Sustain the time to find a way within.
Man, lightly toss your weary blues away!"
we seek a common god beneath the skin
we’re headed for a different field of play.
I wait for you and watch each day roll on-
the earth consumes me now that you are gone.
Posted: Sat - December 1, 2007 at 07:17 PM