Three days after bombing Syria
by Robert Bohm / April 22nd, 2018
The biting wind blows through a magnolia in bloom
rips off petals
heaves them in chaotic zigzags to the ground.
Not knowing which way to turn
in the cold, mid-April
comes to a standstill, frozen
in place, alone
and seasonless.
Later when the wind dies down south of Corner Ketch Rd.,
I sit in the grass, leaning back
against a honey locust trunk.
The trail winds
on and on.
Quiet now.
In the growing dark, the coming night
is a Lenape brave remembering
the taste of mashed cranberry smeared
on a roasted pheasant leg near a marsh
that has now disappeared.
Our killings began long ago.
The stars are out.
Robert Bohm is a writer on culture and a poet. His most recent book of poems is
What the Bird Tattoo Hides (2015, West End Press, New Mexico). He has been a political activist since his tour of duty with the army in 1967-68. Over the years, he has worked on wide range of issues, including antiwar, labor, racism and education. He is currently working on a book about the U.S. left's failure to develop new strategies and tactics for confronting advanced capitalism. Of his six books, one is a nonfiction work on India, his wife's homeland where they have spent much time in the southern state of Karnataka.
Read other articles by Robert.
This article was posted on Sunday, April 22nd, 2018 at 8:02am and is filed under Poetry.