A TREACH-EROUS

ALLEGIA-NCE

NATALIE FOURMYLE

Silent in the front seat
before you leave for the Middle East.
You’ll turn to dust, or at least, you can’t
promise me you’ll come out clean.

Will you write about the war
in letters I'll never see? About the
rubble that falls, children that die,
and the all too many unlived lives.

I prefer you at half-court, playing for scouts
but you wore dress blues under your cap and gown,
heading into a game you’ll never win.
Will I forget your red face under blue skies
against white waves that touch our shores?

We must fight.
We blind the people, wash their brains,
separate truth from the root.

Will you leave? (A letter reads) before the fall of more towers, more sons, more daughters
sacrificed for oil. Fuel for families in grandma’s backyard
gatherings and grills kids gassed on glittering lights
whole generations falling back into a childhood you lost.

don’t lose hope, trudge through crude blue mud
run home to the flood with petroleum-slicked hair and
a uniform we’ll light on fire under the heat
of a Carolina summer sun.

When soldiers retreat—
sent back in hoards & body bags—
to our shores, will you greet
me by the shining sea?
Will the ocean spray clean desert sand off your face?
Or will you remain stained
with the blood and paint?