[TANGO]
the sound of copters rising from a distant field or if you were out
of range mistaken for wingbeats of mandarin ducks setting down
on lakes of cold water in RUSSIA northern CHINA or NEW YORK or
when cold rain beating on an umbrella made you feel safe but the downpour
continued like bombs or missiles incoming & lucky you my friend
so far away yet your eyelids beat against sounds of the unimaginable
[CHARLIE]
maybe the whole thing lasted less than a week before a release
of collective breath the week before the week before I would be
set free like ODYSSEUS but still captive as there was no way out
of that OZARK sty without the requisite off-base pass
the week before the week before just before I mustered out
we heard about the nukes in CUBA we gathered in formation
held flashlights marched by platoon across the base separated
at intersections into 2s & 3s beams pointed at road shoulders
as convoys approached hauling those we thought unlucky bastards
onto highways pointed southeast toward FLORIDA on a starless night
[HOTEL]
thinking back on it there—also here where you & I are the same—men I knew
received orders to go purify the water then asked where the fuck is VIETNAM
[ECHO]
we lived through 6 days of amplified strictness
which should have been down time—time spent downing
cokes perpetually smoking eating BABY RUTHs
the patriotic red-white-&-blue wrappers peeled down
chalked pool cues ready to wield in battle striped
or solid-colored balls exploding or finessed
or buried in pockets on the green baize field
of an ancient out-of-balance soft-cushioned
pool table & here we were days in the rain
or what seemed rain or constant night while we sat
on bunks in cigarette glow awaiting orders
& the light & JAY—the other JAY—moaned
about being so far from home about not wanting
to die about wanting his mother about not wanting
to be immolated while GORDIE not diminished
having borrowed the spirit through wit or luck—
his bald head bent—sat quietly folding & unfolding
[KILO]
in my mind's eye I see it larger than a mandarin orange
smaller than the ironstone sugar bowl my grandma owned
awash in pinks & gold in blues & black fitting into the palm
of a hand not yet lethal until armed placed underground
or as a toilet boobytrap lightweight the M 14A anti-person-
nel mine plastic (mostly) not intended to kill (it will)
its job: to maim nicknamed TOEPOPPER could offer some relief
to those who would be going home maybe …
[WHISKEY]
—all action in those days took place within a minefield no matter
how small no different from now (isn't it always out of the blue)
when something happens like how I trained to handle landmines
no less dynamite learned to attach detonators to fuses by using
the WESTERN UNION pigtail splice no matter what door life walks
us through the arrangement of furniture in the room—unknown even
had we guessed—is moved in the madness of that breathless moment
[FOXTROT]
almost an absence like a tree stump had stood there where silence—
after the flash & boom—extended echoed an embodiment
of noise eating everything in sight & standing there—not all that far
from chaos—are you stunned because it was—in the heaven
& the hell of it—stunning reaching into the present as the news
streams you crane your neck onscreen bodies pile up a hand—
beckons—nails glossed red—from beneath the black plastic sheet
the image is clear eyelids aflutter your gaze averted
Jay Brecker walks and writes in southern California. His poems have or will appear in Cider Press Review, The MacGuffin, Radar Poetry, Folio, Kestrel, Poor Yorick, Sonora Review, Rattle Poets Respond, The Shore, Permafrost, Lily Poetry, Ocean State Review, and RHINO. His manuscript, blue collar eclogue, received the 2024 Marsh Hawk Press Rochelle Ratner Prize.
