CAM RANH


(Vietnam, 1970)

 

Guts on floor

not good for self-image,

so not like

 

x-rays in calm

black and white.  What you

thought Body

 

turned inside

out like a glove who knew

you carried, sliding  

 

down bunker

where concrete dust

drifts, heavy with silence;  

 

hearing the tramp of

blood in your ears, rising -- rising –

coming on like dusk. 

 

We’re not books, though

we can be opened.

Don’t ask 

 

the purple sheen answers

naked as newborns.  Insists

what we are



First published Gargoyle Magazine, Vol. 70, July 2019