Before the war, 1967 (a poem)
Mar 5, 2023
from The Lit Window
We were only boys, on the Reservation
before the war, and after learning
being alone, it all turned
to learning not to look weak.
We all needed to win, to fight
something we could beat. All the heroes
we knew were mean.
I laughed
when they dragged
my sister’s dog to death
behind their car. They searched
for some care, an opening they could tease.
She cried love first craze
at hideous fact, and
I hated the way
I laughed.
One boy wanted to be mean.
Tried to beat me.
The crowd laughed when he couldn’t
stop me from kicking him in the head.
They applauded me. I feared for him.
And kicked him in the head.
