James Dickey: The Selected Poems

Victory

VICTORY By September 3rd I had made my bundle Ofboards and a bag of nails. America, I was high On Okinawa, with the fleet flying on its back Under me, whispering "I can't help it" and all ships firing up fire Fighting liquids sucking seawater, hoses climbing and coloring The air, for Victory. I was clear-seeing The morning far-seeing backward And forward from the cliff I turned on the ground And dug in, my nails and bag of magic Boards from the tent-floor trembling to be A throne. I was ready to sail The island toward life Mter death, left hand following right into the snail shelled ground, then knocking down and nailing down my chair like a box seat in the worldwide window ofpeace and sat and lay down my arms On the stomped grains ofammo-crates heavy with the soles Ofbuddies who had helped me wreck the tent In peace-joy, and ofothers long buried At sea. The island rocked with the spectrum Bombardment of the fleet and there I was For sure saved and plucked naked to my shirt And lids. I raised my head to the sun. What I saw was two birthdays Back, in the jungle, before I sailed high on the rainbow Waters ofvictory before the sun Ofarmistice morning burned into my chest The great V ofAllied Conquest. Now it was not here With the ships sucking up fire Water and spraying it wild Through every color, or where, unthreatened, my navel burned Burned like an entry-wound. Lord, I deepened Memory, and lay in the light high and wide Open, murmuring "I can't help it" as I went The Eye Beaters 127 South in my mind. Yes Mother there were two fine hands Driving the jeep: mine, much better than before, for you had sent Whiskey. What could I do but make the graveyards soar! a you coming Allied Victory, I rambled in the night of two birthdays Ago, the battle ofBuna stoned In moonlight stone-dead left and right going nowhere Near friend or foe, but turned offinto the thickest Dark. a yes, Mother, let me tell you: the vines split and locked: About where you'd never know me is Where I stalled and sat bolt upright in the moonlit bucket Seat throne ofwar cascading the bottle to drink To victory, and to what I would do, when the time came, With my body. The world leapt like the world Driving nails, and the moon burned with the light it had when it split From the earth. I slept and it was foretold That I would live. My head came true In a great smile. I reached for the bottle. It was dying and the moon Writhed closer to be free; it could answer My smile offoreknowledge. I forgot the mosquitoes that were going Mad on my blood, ofbiting me once too often on the bites Ofbites. Had the Form in the moon come from the dead soldier Ofyour bottle, Mother? Let down in blocked Out light, a snakehead hung, its eyes putting into mine Visions ofa victory at sea. New Guinea froze. Midair was steady Between. Snake-eyes needle-eyed its Lips halving its head Stayed shut. I held up the last drop In the bottle, and invited him To sin to celebrate The Allied victory to come. He pulled back a little over 128 The evil of the thing I meant To stand for brotherhood. Nightshining his scales on Detroit Glass, he stayed on and on My mind. I found out the angel Ofpeace is limbless and the day will come I said, when no difference is between My skin and the great fleets Delirious with survival. Mother, I was drunk enough on your birthday Present, not to die there. I backed the jeep out Ofthe Buna weeds and, finally, where the sun struck The side of the hill, there I was back from the dark side Ofthe mind, burning like a prism over the conquering Catherine Wheel of the fleet. But ah, I turned I sank I lay back dead Drunk on a cold table I had closed my eyes And gone north and lay to change Colors all night. Out ofthe Nothing ofoccupation Duty, I must have asked for the snake: I asked or the enemy told Or my snakeskin told Itselfto be. Before I knew it in Yokohama, it was at my throat Beginning with its tail, cutting through the world...