post traumatic

What is a,
Post-traumatic episode?

The burst of a machine gun?
The bullet-ping off body-armour?

The dear girl sucking on the,
Lollipop that,
Killed her when,
Her family,
Believing,
It was offered by,
An American Soldier and,
Too readily accepted,
Strung her up,
High,
On an olive tree,
To teach her friends,
That sugar must not,
Be imported?

Or the rushing gasp,
Of a lover as,
He releases his seed,
Then his dying wish,
Into your cold clammy ear?

Perhaps the divorce that arrives a few weeks after your return,
After that thing at the park,
You under a car,
At the crack of a base-ball bat,

Or,
Not being combat ready,
Not standing knee deep in,
Motor oil,
Shoving against the,
Armoured troop carrier,
That’s refused to go any further,
Is that Post-traumatic?

Is there breath here?
What is a post,
On a blog,
On living past
Trauma?

Where do I go,
If all I got is,
The car wouldn’t start this morning,
And my bank accounts’ run dry?

I will wait for the post to change,
As it invariably does,
Post war,
Post eleven p.m.
When I will meet,
zdapslim33,
On the internet,
-my best friend-
And discuss his problematic tooth.

-short evocative poetry-

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Published in: on September 10, 2015 at 11:39  Leave a Comment  
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