The difference between us
is the space between us.
Our speech is broken
barred—bark—me—
and you—are not
here.
You hold me—
my brothers’
bones
on the pavement
apocalyptic
movement
of
wild dogs
fishing wire jitter
caught ground
fought down
to the last bone
my brothers’ bones
chewed
up—
to nothing
but dog
tags
and
silencers
left.
The sand
swallows it all
to swim in purgatory
warrior night
souls—drift the cosmos
of Vietnam
of Afghanistan
Iran
all the way home
in
a black bag
over
his shoulders—
take this dream
that
your sleep
may
at least
be
peaceful—
we have
no recollection
of events—pressed
into canvas caverns
medals
aligned
meticulous
as
bird fly—
weather vane
iron rooster
red
and spinning
in
the rain
the
thunder
tumbles down
the
mountains
Flatirons
Korengal
my breasts
his back
the
bullet scratch
under
his skin—
never punctured—but
appeared
one day
as
if evaporated
out
of time.
The sky
is not the same sky
but always asks us
why we look at it
as if it will give us
an answer—
we don’t
even know
the question—
the meaning of memory
and distortion—intentional
forgetting—remember—
plasma souls—
hold my hand
his
hands
shake all the time—
my brothers’ bones
in my hands—
I drop them
and die—
my brothers’ bones
hold
me
together.
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