a love lament
love--even slight
and shared through a short space, a tiny moment--is,
perhaps, a magical
potion and precious . . .
she turned her tawny face
and leaning closer
kissed my shoulder
with just the tip
of a delicate finger
we rested
in early evening's dusk light
limbs and spirits joined
quietly anticipating
the next
sensitive explosion
to come
underneath the satin sheets
musing upon
the slow undulations
of the ceiling fan
and the smell of long flowing dark hair
i traced a perfect circle
upon the curvature
of her thigh
later
while walking the deserted streets
we paused to laugh
through our broken words and gestures
at the delicious wonder
of chipped starlight
but tears swiftly followed at daybreak
and neither of us could quite understand
what compelled me to return
like others she had spent time with
to the urgencies of killing
now in my state of duty
surrounded by
strewn earth
incessant confusion
and the sweet stench of burnt flesh
as behind me
the never-ending booms
tear away at the living
scattering bits
of the distant blue ridge line
in lazy haphazard arcs
all i can do
is regretfully bask
in fading memory
and the tenuous worlds
of if only and maybe
Winter, 1968
Qui Nhon, Vietnam
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