Chinese Cloud
My eager voice an invitation, Tom's reply
"Sure, let me come along"
When asked to hunt his draw
The night's late season tracking snow
Filling my army surplus canvas jacket
Full of shells and hope
Ready or not two roosters rose,
Not. And they sailed half a mile
Untouched
We marked their spot in my father's slough
The snow was deep enough walking required sweat
A silent absence of game
Til we got down beneath the hills
Near the fence a hen flock flushed wild
And the Chinese ring-necked roosters rose raucously
Out of range, down the creek, chasing further
A lost cause
Farmers and old soldiers don't talk much, but
Tom came over to confer, lit a Winston, and shivered
A cold front bluster shaking his coat to match his hand
"I hope I can make it home before I freeze."
A dark cloud carrying a skiff of snow over the hill blew
A memory of a Korean battlefield Hell
Suddenly spilling from his soul a scene of a soldier frozen
Dying beside him in grotesque pose painting a Picasso's "Guernica"
Retreating
We trudged home defeated
And in silence
~~ Phil Specht
3 comments:
Thank you again for posting one of my poems in such a finely crafted space.
No one but my wife had ever seen that before, and it all came of her finding that Korean War 3/4 length canvas jacket, that I used as a hunting coat.
I doubt I would have heard Tom's story of horror had I been wearing a different coat for it clearly was part of what jogged his memory along with carrying a gun and getting cold.
I wrote the poem and then let her throw out the tattered jacket.
Phil
Phil, I wish you had your poems in a book so I could read them over and over again. They never fail to move me.
Phil, never mistake: I am honored to have your poetry here. You are a fine poet (Edwin agrees that's you're awesome).
Since we really can't slam on the BBB anymore, it's wonderful to have you "archived" here. . . .
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