Poetry Break: John Maurer marilyn l davis two drops of inkmarilyn l davis

Poetry Break: John Grey

By: John Grey

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STROKE 3

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Jailed,
you’ve nothing else to do
but listen to machines
behind you, out of sight,
measuring your feeble body motions
while, in a far field,
men dig a hole
just deep enough.
You can’t speak.
Words are like scratches
in your throat.
The constant beeping
is more than a distraction.
It’s what’s left of your life.
Your eyes still work,
and one side of your mind
can recall the last October,
the wingbeats of migrating birds,
the sun’s cooling happiness.
Better that
than this white world you inhabit,
laid out flat
in more of that debilitating color,
among voices low and echoey
as if whispering in tunnels.
You’re a prisoner all right,
chained at the ankles,
at your left side.
The shackles are tight,
digging into skin
with pain you can’t feel,
can only imagine.
You lie alone
despite the scurrying around you,
the faces of visitors
hung like pelts on their bones.
You hope that hole is dug already.
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OMAHA BEACH
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Twelve thousand buried here,
twelve thousand crosses,
from the air
look like seed heads
ready to blow
in the winds of war
spread sacrifice
elsewhere,
everywhere
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Poetry Break: John Grey two drops of ink marilyn l davis

John Grey is an Australian poet, US resident, recently published in Orbis, Dalhousie Review and Connecticut River Review.
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Poetry Break: John Grey two drops of ink marilyn l davis

 

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