322–The Draft

the only draft i know these days are these posts
but Vietnam comes to body with that word the
whole slew of boys i knew coming home to Maine
maimed their limbs missing sometimes they had
no face i visited one who spoke through a slit
they had made in the sheet of skin they called
his face my buddy Jim was his troop leader i used
to dance with Jim in my living room in Newark
while my fiance was away
at school i can’t erase that “face” though now
i have forgotten his name i couldn’t make
it more than once to his bedside at the VA
the image carved into
a corner of my brain stains my view of
everything there
and leaves me paralyzed with fear the
men and boys and girls line up to be
heroes again from another endless
war or two no one else remembers
that faceless face i guess

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