I.
Would you teach me to hold a gun
like I hold that glass? What if the war breaks out elsewhere?
Would you teach me to hold a gun
like I hold that glass? What if the war breaks out elsewhere?
I ask a high-school friend who calls me to show his weapons
as I sit sipping white wine on a summer terrace. Ten years
as I sit sipping white wine on a summer terrace. Ten years
since we marched up the Austrian Alps, he is noiselessly fighting
the real war, not the one I declared on myself in my head,
the real war, not the one I declared on myself in my head,
when I was fourteen & almost starved myself to death;
not against these troops
not against these troops
of mosquitoes
ambushing my sunburnt skin.
ambushing my sunburnt skin.
I have too many bites
& drink too many sips & suddenly, I’m praying.
& drink too many sips & suddenly, I’m praying.
Read the full poem on Doris Press.