Lee A. Simmons
NOODLES AND BREAD
Walls surround me both day and night
Closing in inch by crackling inch with a hastening fright
Rooms become smaller with each breath I take
I wait biddingly for nightfall so my dreams can take me away.
With the ceiling coming down and the floor rising up
My hands grasp nervously for my coffee cup
Swallowing in gulps as my lips are quivering
I try unavailingly to keep my body from shivering.
I close my eyes and float back to when I was young
Not old enough to vote, but old enough to carry a gun
I see four men in a ditch all lying dead
Many years have passed by; still they are in my head.
Pieces of meat with holes in their flesh
No Breath, not Life, nothing but Rest
Roadside stands with Noodles and Baked Bread
More flies on me than those that lay Dead.
I look back once more to see if they had moved
I notice the fingers and the ears, all had been removed
I wondered where the families were, if they would come to say goodbye
Knowing full well if they did, they too would Die.
I swatted the flies away from my Noodles and Bread
I placed the Dead carcasses behind the Wall in my head
Vietnam, Vietnam, sing your song
The Youth of your country has long since gone.
I float back to my easy chair, coffee still in my hand
Grasping the chair, I breath, push up, and stand
With visions and thoughts still fresh in my head
I go to the kitchen to fix my Noodles and Bread.
©Copyright 1991 by Lee A. Simmons