Poem of the Month
All the Isaacs
Sent to war by their fathers. Laced with rounds
& Kalashnikovs & hidden inside
a Trojan horse that bears within its womb
mighty men chosen to be field-battered
hosts. Broad-shouldered, tattooed, fully armored,
to attract girls who won’t fatally miscount
this boy who went MIA, this other
standing with his back to her in letters.
Concussed IED’d amputees return
from abroad, start to be lucky except
for survivor guilt. Why the order
to abort? Father’s ass’s still bound
by rope loops to a sapling. Father’s
still smoking & pacing off steps for plots.