War Poet.ca - A CFAP Project by Suzanne Steele

letter before I leave #2

on the phone the other night:

you: just x days before I leave. barely time to sleep. barely time to get laid.

me: go for it. it’s what you need.

you: sleep or sex?

me: both. it’s going to be a long tour

you: told my parents the other day, if things go pear-shaped, bury me at home. in the village. beneath the tree. in the little churchyard. the little churchyard next to the open prairie. where my grandparents, my great-grandparents lie. the place that fills with white flowers every May.

me: fawn lilies?

you: who knows? I’m not a flower guy. just know what I like.

me: not Beechwood with the brothers?

you: nope. want none of that. no 21 gun salute. no brass.

me: who’ll wear your silver crosses? your mother, your sister, who else?

you: don’t know. haven’t had time for love. no time to muckle onto some chick. too busy on Ex., 3 tours. too tired. hey there, sorry. gotta hang up. the guys are at my door. taking me out on the town. getting me hammered. I’ll call you later. before I go.

me: be careful. have fun. lots of fun.




soldier, all night I couldn’t sleep. for more than 2 hrs at a go. thinking about you. each time I woke I saw your eyes. blue. crystalline. water I could drink and drink. eyes I saw in the sunrise that morning you picked me up at daybreak. drove me into the city. you so amazing in your deserts. your beret. I had to pinch myself that for a few hours you were mine.

then when I finally managed to get to sleep. around 4 am (0400 hrs!) I dreamed you came to me. lay a silver cross. a purple ribbon. gently. across my naked breast. I dreamed you came to me. no longer tired. smiled. stayed awhile. slept. rose at dawn. got dressed. walked away. closed the door silently. as you left.

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The page you're reading contains a single diary entry entitled letter before I leave #2. It was posted here on October 10, 2009.


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