M.I.A.
Walking on the beach in Anzio
shuffling through
the memories of my Uncle Joe:
MIA World War II
A marble slab
and empty grave
for the Kansas farm boy
ordered into the slaughter
by old men
The sins of the fathers
are paid for by sons
If my grandmother was alive
she wouldn’t stand for the National Anthem
or pledge allegiance
She’d tell you the truth
generals don’t want the next generation
of lambs to know:
She’d talk about the wife her son never married
infants that weren’t conceived
the battle lost
before it was fought
mangled lives
bulldozed into muddy pits
planted over
with manicured lawns
Shell holes filled in with umbrellas
obliterating blood soaked beachfronts
If Uncle Sam hadn’t broken her heart
and buried my grandmother’s voice
she’d leave no bone unturned
She would say:
Wars don’t make men out of boys
they mow grass down
before it has a chance to dance in wind
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