by Barbara A Audet
Tuesday, January 29, 2008
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Old wool and scratch polyester
Catch in the blood and rip skin.
Harder than death to swallow
Harder than happiness of living.
One arm. One leg. One eye. One foot.
One when two was meant to carry.
Which war which cause of death this week speaks,
Truth is in the flesh left pining for its other.
I saw a man today, his brain was far behind him, in a box or bottle resting,
His eyes tried to capture meaning,
This soldier stand, crooked, bent,
One leg unreal. One arm unreal. One eye unreal.
Half sensing. Missing mass.
A wonder of ingenuity,
Brought him back from halves.
But he is not whole.
Can never be.
The loss is more than skin and bone.
The loss demands new measures.