June Widow (after Saving Private Ryan)

Stephen M. James — Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

If I pick her, she will be torn,
beautiful flowers, back over the pond, in a vase,
the French countryside–I’ve seen her wear it on Sundays,
the place we met–the demolished cafes–sans the coffee;
we share memory of mothers with the crash of cannons,
beyond the river where red was roses and Revlon
and knee cuts on the playground,
we left our school-teaching-selves:
like the rubble above our brothers
that collapsed our bridge home.

Beyond the River

Stephen M. James — Mon, 30 Nov -0001 00:00:00 +0000

the French countryside–I’ve seen her wear it on Sundays,
the demolished cafe–the place we met–sans the coffee;
we share memories of our mother with mortars
beyond the river where red was only roses and Revlon,
and we left our school-teaching-selves
like the rubble now under our brothers
that collapsed our bridge home.

the poetry knook :: the poetry of stephen m. james :: indianapolis, indiana » coffee

June Widow (after Saving Private Ryan)

Beyond the River