Tessa, My Soldier Son Books In

The signals fired,
a sea of camouflage where
we congregated, waiting for
a green pick-up bus.

We ate lamb pie at a cafe
sucking at the air with
light whistling noises,
black boots in sight.

And so the ritual began, shall
be reprised on Sundays–
soldier son soldiering on,
mother so conciliatory.


Day 19

“Write a poem about a commonplace location. The poem could be about the local grocery store, library, or something even more intimate–like your kitchen or bathroom. Or it could be standing in line at the DMV or post office.”


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