Jessica Ramer
Reporting to the Armor Training Center
As our car wound down hills toward the troop train,
He grasped his mother’s hand in mute farewell.
My wife betrayed the peace she hoped to feign
On hearing trumpets at the depot strain
To play God Bless America’s last swell
As our car wound down hills to the troop train.
Veiled hat obscuring brow and bark-grey skein
Of hair, pursed lips white as a sea-scrubbed shell,
My wife betrayed the peace she hoped to feign.
When he came home, we drove, deaf to inane
Tunes sung by soldiers drinking muscatel
As our car wound down hills to the troop train.
Each time she helped him learn to walk again,
His new leg clattering each time he fell,
My wife betrayed the peace she hoped to feign.
Korea: we prayed for its end—in vain—
But sent a second son, knew he could tell,
As our car wound down hills to the troop train,
We both betrayed the peace we hoped to feign.
Jessica Ramer is a third-year PhD student in poetry at the University of Southern Mississippi.
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