ISSUE: Spring 2008
To save her, they had to cut her brain in two,
Had to sever nerves, strip one lobe almost bare—
It left her blind. Still, she has come through.
Today in her new room she sits and chews
The insides of her cheeks. Her gold scarf glares
On her bald head; her eyes are steelier blue.
Where are you as you read this? There’s little news
Of war here—something about ambush flares
From TV maps of rivers coursing through
That broken world that soldiers such as you
Must now re-make. She almost seems to stare
Up at the screen. We worry about you.
Not that she’ll know you—but she’ll know you knew
Whatever it was she was. So you’ll be air
To her: something borrowed, something blue—
Her mouth hangs quiet, but I don’t think she’s confused.
She has a face she can’t prepare.
She sits and waits with eyes unscrewed.
No need to hurry—but do
Come home. Whatever they want of you there—
Just finish it. Just do what you must do.
Blind, lobotomized, she waits for you.
