Marine

I haven't seen you in uniform in years.
But somehow, civilian clothing
Doesn't look right on you anymore.
Something about the way you stand--

Shoulders back,
Arms clasped behind you,
Feet shoulder width apart:
“At ease,” they call it
But you look so stiff and tense

That here, in our backyard,
With the dogs running and barking
And dad grilling and mom reading,
You just seem out of place.

We're glad to have you home,
But I have to wonder
If you'll ever be my brother again.