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& the War Was in Its Infancy Then

By the time I looked over my shoulder, the sun had already fallen.

A Childhood

The horse had been beaten and flies crawled on the beat marks.

A Distant Episode

The distant past returned—what part of it, he could not decide.

A Fragmented Diary in a Fragmented Time

We take our solace, in a time of malaise and mourning, in the close-at-hand.

A Husband and Father

Frank kept his face blank as he read the orders: Report to Berlin.

A Journey along the Atlantic Slave Route

Neither blood nor belonging accounted for my presence in Ghana.

A Matter of Appeal

Felicia knew why he was there. He was waiting. Waiting for her.

A Partial History of Lost Causes

Chess was a humiliation that hung over him like a leper’s bell.

A Soldier’s Lover

We never really had what might be considered a normal conversation.

A Storyteller’s Story

Americans have always a kind of tenderness for cheat.

Acorns

The guards ripped off Mara’s clothes, pinning her head against the wall.

Across the Sea: A Sequence

The stones here carry the island’s low cry inside them. A landlocked grief.

After Saddam

He said he had come back to the prison because it was home.

After War

The author reflects on a soldier‘s experience, in just six words.

Alderaan

The towns died as quickly as a single house, a house like ours, lit gold within.

All My Friends Are Sad & Bright

We’ve seen the news. We know the story. How even our bodies hurt us.

All Saints’ Eve

Why did it take Steven’s small coffin to get me to see my own son?

All That Floats

Devanand Simon was twenty-five when the bodies fell from the sky.

All the Trimmings

The old man drinks some more liquor and whacks down two trees.

Americanathon

Waiting for a cure, waiting for the closeout sale, the black sail.

Anchor and Knife

The first time I met you I fought your father in the driveway.

Atomic Facts

I do not want to fall prey to the bewitchment of my mind by language.

Bangana

I commute to war five days a week in a station wagon the color of an egg.

Best Advice

It was the sixties, and I was in
college and incredibly restless.

Black and White

If a friend’s family is persecuted, call Sinn Fein on that number.

Blackout

She has wings of rouge on her cheekbones, her beak blood red.

Blood

He sees the slight swelling of her breasts in the open collar of her blouse.

Bodily Assumption and Other Poems

Find a hair in the rose bush, wrap it around a thorn until that thorn is soft.

Borderlands

Three fingers had been cut from her right hand, two from her left.

Bosnia Bosnia

Too bad there is no oil between her legs that 4-year-old Muslim girl.

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