We who are left, who did not die in wars,
observe today as giving special space
for honoring the slaughtered and all vets
who hang‐in, or hang‐out, and all‐too‐often
hang themselves when they can’t kick
the enemy from ordinary life. I hide inside
and turn off the TV. How can I celebrate
a generosity of sacrifice I find mistaken
at its core, based on a premise so obscene
it wounds us all? Well, keep this small. My
son‐in‐law had something blow up in his
face in Vietnam and lived to disagree with me.
With him I’ll celebrate, quite easily,
respect and love: mutual victory.