Today's paper had three stories from the war, each one devastating in its own way. I thought I'd write a piece based on each of them, and call the trio "The news, April 11." Here's a second draft of the first one.
#8. The next lost boys
Each blast makes a brain bounce like a yolk,
fragility hidden in the unscathed
shell. No one sees the ruin till it’s clear:
A football star who now can’t catch a ball.
He can't parse a play in a pick-up game,
can’t get a grip on words. What’s a cherry?
He couldn’t tell you, can’t conjure the
blossom, the color, even a shape.
The sound of it just floats until he
sees it: Cherry, that’s the street where he
got shot. When he’s better he’ll return,
still a Marine, to show more boys like him
how to survive. That’s what he clings to--
evidence of damage, of forgetting.
4/11/07
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