Poetry |

“1970”

1970

 

 

The children wrote to soldiers in Vietnam

to learn about language arts and geography.

The popular girl’s pen pal wrote back, sent gifts,

strode into Room 6 once on leave, all camouflage

and smiles. The soldier and students pledged

allegiance, sang God Bless America.

Miss Lane accompanied on autoharp.

New vocab words were patriotism and heroism.

 

The children who walked home passed another soldier

most days. Frayed in his Army jacket, he stood

on one crutch, one foot, in the middle of the street

arms outstretched like Jesus.

Cars avoided him like a fallen wire.

He begs for booze money, the mothers said.

Go home, Jimmy, the crossing guard said.

Hippie and druggie, the big kids said.

 

Sundays, families piled into station wagons,

stopped at full-service gas stations, where attendants

gave free drinking glasses etched with, Ask not

what your country can do for you … We

collected them to fill with milk for dinner.

Life is unfair … was another JFK quote.

People still repeat that one like it’s news.

It’s short and to the point. Like Jesus wept.

Contributor
Dorian Kotsiopoulos

Dorian Kotsiopoulos’ work has appeared in literary and medical journals including Poet Lore, Salamander, New England Journal of Medicine, JAMA, Women’s Review of Books, Third Wednesday, and Smartish Pace. She works as technical writing manager at Athena Health in Watertown, Massachusetts.

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