fighting season (from May Day)
Mar 21, 2009
in the LAV with the boys of 2 1Alpha/smsteele wainwright oct.08
Another installment of May Day, a fictional series of letters from a young woman to her lover serving as a Warrant Officer in Afghanistan. For a backgrounder on the project, click on the May Day icon at the right, or listen to the audio broadcast, writing May Day.
How could she wait on love when there was suffering such as this? How could she not wait on love when there was suffering such as this?
Edna O’Brien, Time and Tide
here it is again. your silence. lethal as Afghan poppies. greening to blue.
I read. scan papers. youTube. anything. for news.
fighting season. begun. your second wrestle with the dust.
man against man. Jacob. Angel. Good Guys 0, Bad Guys 1
Shah Wali Khot.
this time. helicopters. Chinooks. wings. not foot.
another variable for worry.
and where are you? where are you?
the morning’s news. four soldiers dead. more injured. and I just know. tonight after the show, when I go to the party. the argument. the fights. I’ll have to listen to. the big debate. whether or not the soldiers should get out of there. everyone turning to me.
as if I’m some sort of Intel guru.
just because I sleep. with you.
at rehearsal, C says, “chica, you and M, Aphrodite and Ares. classic duende.”
I give C a dirty look. swear I’ll never tell her anything again. don’t engage.
and your last txt, M. from Cyprus (how was leave by the way? lots of drink? lots of lays?)
don’t give up
as if you could read my mind.
and I try and I try M.
throw myself into rehearse. prepare. dance.
but life here. in the wings. a seco
—dry as your Afghan desert—
soldier. man. fighting. man.
yet, here I am.
just me, my footwork. my plantas, my tacones,
the empty stage. empty theatre.
the cahone of war. alone.
and you. in the thick of things.
the brothers. the fields.
the sweat. the fatigue.
so far. so very far.
from here. from peace.
prends soi de toi M,