More War Stories

blue it is
a stark blue sky; the Plymouth
is warm and I slide my fingers
along the blue curving tailfin
blue soldier wears the Air Force news
sharp pressed uniform, stiff hat
and those shiny blue black shoes
standing in the gritty dirt
driveway. I can smell the sweet peas
in the field and I wiggle my bare toes
in the lackluster heat
blue voices linger above, ebb and then
say goodbye to your daddy. Later
I will have to lean against
the back of the garage in the
thin blue shade to shell the peas
one pod after another
when he's gone. No one can
explain away my father
getting into his car
backing down the dusty lane
and driving off, slow
my father
my father is gone
swallowed up by the world
like a blue note sorrowful sweet
it's seared to my heart
and catches in my breath
and I always remember him
like a blue note.