by Suzanne Morris
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Whenever I look at the portrait of him 50 years ago peering out from beneath the smart billed cap of his U.S. Army dress uniform, his eyes seem fixed on grim reality: he was drafted just before his 25th birthday during a war that he already suspected we should not be fighting, and the casualties were mounting at an alarming rate. What a relief when he was made a levee clerk in the Medical Corps, posted at Fort Lewis, Washington. Yet... sending others into action while remaining safely behind left its own set of scars. Long after the war was over, he suffered nightmares of being under fire in Viet Nam. I would lay beside him in the dark, transfixed as he described in terrifying detail the first-hand experience of a combat veteran. This year I watched the Memorial Day Concert on PBS, with patriotic music and stories of valor— a resounding tribute to all who had died defending American ideals over the last 250 years. By the time the show closed with a haunting rendition of Taps I was clutching his picture against my heart, knowing how grim his face would be had he lived long enough to see the abdication of those ideals by a President afflicted with gilded bone spurs, and thinking ahead to the taxpayer-financed military parade scheduled in Washington, D.C. on June 14th, a faux tribute to the U.S. Army that is sure to make Trump’s pal Vladimir red-faced with envy. Anyone who dares to crash Trump’s 45-million-dollar birthday party will be met with great force as in the case of the protests against his immigration raids in L.A., drafting U.S. troops to engage in a war they should not be fighting.
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Suzanne Morris is a novelist with eight published works, and a poet. Her poems have appeared in online journals including The New Verse News and Texas Poetry Assignment, and anthologies including The Senior Class - 100 Poets on Aging (Lamar University Literary Press, 2024). A native Houstonian, she has resided in Cherokee County, Texas, since 2008.
"gilded bone spurs"--this should become a meme. It's perfect. Thank you for this excellent poem.
Heard there is a good chance of rain, may it rain cats and dogs because nobody ate them