My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite.
I said I wouldn’t, dammit: No tears.
I’m stone. I’m flesh.
My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night
Slanted against morning. I turn this way—the stone lets me go.
I turn that way—I’m inside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial again, depending on the light to make a difference.
I go down the 58,022 names, half-expecting to find my own in letters like smoke.
I touch the name Andrew Johnson;
I see the booby trap’s white flash. Names shimmer on a woman’s blouse
But when she walks away the names stay on the wall.
Brushstrokes flash, a red bird’s wings cutting across my stare.
The sky. A plane in the sky.
A white Vet’s image floats closer to me, then his pale eyes look through mine. I’m a window.
He’s lost his right arm inside the stone.
In the black mirror a woman’s trying to erase names:
No, she’s brushing a boy’s hair.
slatten49 wrote:
My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite.
I said I wouldn’t, dammit: No tears.
I’m stone. I’m flesh.
My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night
Slanted against morning. I turn this way—the stone lets me go.
I turn that way—I’m inside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial again, depending on the light to make a difference.
I go down the 58,022 names, half-expecting to find my own in letters like smoke.
I touch the name Andrew Johnson;
I see the booby trap’s white flash. Names shimmer on a woman’s blouse
But when she walks away the names stay on the wall.
Brushstrokes flash, a red bird’s wings cutting across my stare.
The sky. A plane in the sky.
A white Vet’s image floats closer to me, then his pale eyes look through mine. I’m a window.
He’s lost his right arm inside the stone.
In the black mirror a woman’s trying to erase names:
No, she’s brushing a boy’s hair.
My black face fades, hiding inside the black grani... (
show quote)
I heard a pin drop.
Now remember who's trying to start the next one.
slatten49 wrote:
My black face fades, hiding inside the black granite.
I said I wouldn’t, dammit: No tears.
I’m stone. I’m flesh.
My clouded reflection eyes me like a bird of prey, the profile of night
Slanted against morning. I turn this way—the stone lets me go.
I turn that way—I’m inside the Vietnam Veterans Memorial again, depending on the light to make a difference.
I go down the 58,022 names, half-expecting to find my own in letters like smoke.
I touch the name Andrew Johnson;
I see the booby trap’s white flash. Names shimmer on a woman’s blouse
But when she walks away the names stay on the wall.
Brushstrokes flash, a red bird’s wings cutting across my stare.
The sky. A plane in the sky.
A white Vet’s image floats closer to me, then his pale eyes look through mine. I’m a window.
He’s lost his right arm inside the stone.
In the black mirror a woman’s trying to erase names:
No, she’s brushing a boy’s hair.
My black face fades, hiding inside the black grani... (
show quote)
The following is a link to photos of my recent trip to D.C. (Photos include many of The Wall)
https://foreveryoungvets.org/group-resource-d-c-fall-2022/Password: littlegeneral (no spaces, case-sensitive)
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