February 7, 1991
Mavericks, scuds
and scud busters
hellfire, patriot missiles
warthogs and warheads.
Here are the tanks
here the enemy bunkers
here our marines
kids from the Bronx and Iowa City
waiting in lines to make phone calls
buying soda pop and chips
in Saudi Arabia.
Here in Brooklyn
turning off the news
opening the window a crack
to get some air
on a rainy winter day
while the baby
sleeps on my bed
and my son
sleeps on the living room couch
to keep company with the cats
who can’t go in his room
because of the hamsters
I’m thinking of a man, a printer
I worked for years ago in L.A.
He had fought in Korea
and told me of his horror
the first time he stepped
over dead bodies.
He said you don’t feel
yourself changing.
You even get used to the smell.