Published in Farrago 2020 Edition Three

i live with soldiers
of no notable rank
no colonel
lieutenant even
while empty streets glimmer
lines of indigo tar
they rise
 
uniform on
navy blue
sterile sapphires
epaulettes replaced by
white swipe cards, brilliant
i think of her
in that apron she got for Christmas
 
kitchen smells waft through my bedroom door
– muffins
 
i hear the trenches are saving their masks
for the bad ones
sometimes they go without
 
we wait for the canons –
 
blood sweat
sleepless nights – pinging pager
i don’t think they knew they could die
 
danger danger
i cannot fight if i cannot see
 
what can i do but
wait
i am no domestic damsel
but i am a coward
 
so i do the washing the cooking hanging vacuuming
i tell them to shower when they get
home (lest they forget)
we do not want the blood on us
 
the wait is
an ache
sting of a band-aid
dragged off my skin
stones on my chest –
drowning, i cannot sleep
(but don’t worry i don’t have it)
 
(at least i think i don’t)
 
what matters if other people die?
but i am selfish
i am no good Samaritan
perhaps it is i who should go
down to hell
the world clings
 
hanging
still
 
they wait to be deployed
 
today i wish my soldiers
would come home

Featured image by Reann Lin