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.