DAY(DREAM) # 526 Poem by Alfred Schaffer

This bare space that I crossed with enough ammo for a week.
I was hitched to a truck here
as I roared the first lines of the national anthem.
Only the first lines, for the melody.
I learned to slaughter animals here
the innards in a burlap sack and chucked onto the fire.
Here the game was to beat death.
Cycling, jumping ditches and this was where seven kids
peed over me and I stayed prostrate until I could get up again
here I ran through the garden on a summer's evening
chasing her - whether she'd giggle, all that low light.
If I don't watch out, I'll take one cautious step back
and another step and step by step
I step away from myself. Only once I'm far enough away
and can no longer hear myself, I turn around and
begin to run like mad.
How quiet it is today.
As quiet as a forest in winter.
As quiet as a bird, high up in the sky.
As quiet as a sleeping whale.