Vietnam
White, unlined
Devil's kin
Heavensent
A corner ripped
A crease somewhere
Across the heading,
"Dear Mrs. White."
Her name in the corner
A sure sign of horror.
The message typed neatly
I wish to keep veiled.
A thin piece of paper,
An envelope addressed
So neatly,
So patiently.
Give my heart rest.
Six months in solitude,
Six months I have waited.
Now herd is a letter.
The TV is reading
A list of names.
Newscasters, once a friend,
Are now inhumane.
Not another number
To be read out loud.
Not another letter
To be delivered.
Yet, it is.
I'm broken.
Devil's kin
Heavensent
A corner ripped
A crease somewhere
Across the heading,
"Dear Mrs. White."
Her name in the corner
A sure sign of horror.
The message typed neatly
I wish to keep veiled.
A thin piece of paper,
An envelope addressed
So neatly,
So patiently.
Give my heart rest.
Six months in solitude,
Six months I have waited.
Now herd is a letter.
The TV is reading
A list of names.
Newscasters, once a friend,
Are now inhumane.
Not another number
To be read out loud.
Not another letter
To be delivered.
Yet, it is.
I'm broken.