"What They Were Called" and "The Next Battle"

What They Were Called

“you were about three” she said
“sitting in the basket
of the shopping cart
and you just stared
and stared….
and i was terrified
of what you were gonna say
but you didn’t say anything
just stared”
 
until then
i had only seen
white faces
 
so it was understandable
that i was transfixed
as i would have been
by anything nameless and new
 
i can even imagine
my little boy’s eyes
wide with wonder
as they absorbed
this new fact about the world
 
later
i learned
all about “them”
from older men
and other kids
who grew up
in that same suburban town
 
and what they were called
 
been digging out
those slivers
ever since

The Next Battle

at the coffee shop sits a tattered poncho
a man beneath, voice like artillery shells
fired from beneath a redbeard jungle
 
he used to work the ranch
and how sharp the knife
that he used to castrate the horses
 
and on about the jungles of Vietnam
and bayoneting gooks through the ribs
though he was too young to have been there
 
as the people shift in their seats
and cast glances toward the owner
from sideways jackrabbit eyes
 
the guns go silent
when he’s asked to please leave
he nods, he understands
 
shoulders his garbage bag
and walks out into the morning chill
toward the next battle