Poems from the 322

I spent April and May of 2023 in Basic Military Training for the Air Force.

Here are three poems I wrote in the quiet, dark hours while on Entry Controller/Fire Watch.

24April2023

Here it is, in a thread they call “spice brown”

the name my father holds,

the one etched into his father’s tombstone.

The one I gave my son,

the one he will give his.

Here it is on camo and velcro,

smoothed over my chest,

flush against the back of my head.

Chest up, shoulders back, head high.

Our name back on blues,

back in service,

hung with rank for the first time in a long time.

Do you see this, Grandpa?

From wherever you are perched in the afterlife.

I raised my right hand and said the words you said

with our name in a thread, they call “spice brown” on my chest.

24April2023

I sweep,

the crush

of the bristles

against the

rough drill pad.

Up and down,

back and forth,

knocking rocks

from one end

to the other.

And there’s

the golden sun

cresting over the

flat, square buildings

with people all dressed the same.

I stare for a moment—

that’s all I have, a moment—

I remember that there’s life

outside of all of this.

People beyond these square buildings

and that the same golden sun that is shining on me

is shining on all of them.

A moment.

I sweep,

the crush

of the bristles

against the

rough drill pad.

22April2023

Come with me,

my brothers who arm the skies,

so we might see what lies beyond the clouds.

On the horizon’s golden peak,

flanked left and right with blinking stars,

guiding us on our journey—so weary—

may we find heaven eternal.

If we don't, hell be damned.

If flames are what we find,

shout with me,

my brothers who arm the skies,

so that God will know

that we never left a brother behind.