Semper Fidelus Poem by Lowe Loup

You sit alone in the same cracked leather Lazy-Boy Dad did.
Your Skoal stained fingertips rubbing the dark violet crescents beneath your lashes.
The Price is Right reflects off of your eyes, staring blankly and made translucent
from the half empty bottle of Wild Turkey sitting placidly on the table.
Fractured glass lies untouched beneath a picture frame where you and Meghan
used to lie on a beach, smiling in the summer sun. She said she couldn't take the nightmares
that make you wake, screaming and weeping at night, and follow you throughout the day.
Now the TV's pale glow is the only light that touches you.
You and the heavy black drapes that seperate him from the world.

After the four years you signed away, watching friends fall twisted to the earth.
You say you can still taste the scorched sand in your mouth.
The same stuff that you still pick out of your nose and ears, even after 18 months.
We tried to help you scrub the harsh red dirt from underneath your fingernails
but the searing heat of oil fires must have fused it into a part of you.
I guess your sacrifice didn't end when you came home-
it's tough to have anyone else in your life when you remain,
always faithful, to colors and nylon and thread.
Now the Poloroid pictures of the man you can't recognize, mock you with a family you don't know.
Your family now is dressed in khaki and green, two continents away from your chair.