Scenes of War
Buy Issue for $25 at JHUP- Scenes of War
Ten Years Later: An Anniversary
In the photograph, the scar tissue still Sealed her eyes. He closed the Berkshire Eagle, Remembered the exploding bombs And the results he could never see From his cockpit on each mission. Blinded in her third spring, this child Was now as old as his daughter Smiling across the breakfast table, Gulping her milk to be on time for the bus. Mission accomplished, he thought, Spreading jam the color of blood.
Result
His son wants to touch it, Asks if he can play with it— “Please, Daddy, take it off.” But this is his prosthesis, His perfect fit resulting from A war that did not fit— A roadside bomb Left his leg shattered With a jutting dagger of bone. Not today, not tomorrow, But one day he will tell his son About innocence, Arrogance, stupidity. [End Page 222]
Michael Miller was first published by Andrew Lytle in these pages in 1969, and his poetry has since appeared in the Kenyon Review, Raritan, and the Yale Review. His new book of poetry, Lifelines, was recently published by Pinyon. He served in the Marine Corps during 1958–1962.
