War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

O Johnny

Johnny, über-soldier on Shilo’s Carl G range,
I knew you’d cover more than arcs, tread dust,
test, not second-guess, you’d take the hit
first before me, before your men. Ever.
At Suffield your platoon white teeth black-face grinned
after live-fire, the hail, LAV turret, gun break-down,
taught me how much shit infantrymen can take,
how the heavier the load, weirdly, the happier you all get.
Then Afghanistan. 11 Platoon only a kilometer away
but roads too mined for poets to come to tea.

Trenton, repat. We hugged, waited for one of your boys,
cried before he arrived, his coffin unloaded.
O Johnny, believe what Col. says. There’s nothing more
you could have done. It was that young boy’s time.







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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled O Johnny. It was posted here on May 28, 2010.

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